Storm Front
by Weathergirl
Summary: The skies over him have darkened. Bobby knows this storm, he can't win. But she won't let him give up. B/A
1. Chapter 1

**A/N... **This story got locked into my mind several weeks ago and I couldn't let it go. It is pretty angsty at times and the underlying theme might be difficult for some. I promise to make the angst worth enduring. This is all drama, no case. I usually write suspense but this story just begged to be told.

**Pairing: **Pre-B/A to B/A

**Rating: **It's really T, but with one chapter rated M.**  
**

**Time frame: **This is confusing. Pretend it's about season 5 with Deakins, Barek and Logan, but everything up to the episode Frame has already occurred (i.e., Frances, Frank, Brady and Nicole are gone). **  
**

**Usual disclaimer about not owning them...**

* * *

**Chapter notes... **Thanks to JamiW for her suggestions on this chapter. The italics/bold/centered dialogue represents past scenes that are being replayed in Bobby's mind.

* * *

**Bobby's POV**

. . .

x.x.x.x.x

**"_When did you first start experiencing these symptoms, Mr. Goren?"_**

x.x.x.x.x

. . .

I glance up from my desk, once again seeing the closed door to Deakins' office.

Anxiety is winning, I realize, as I flick the blue pen that I had been nervously twirling onto the floor. It rolls under the desk behind me. I don't bother getting up to retrieve it.

I'm only half-listening to my partner as she talks about random things. And these are the types of conversations with her that I usually enjoy. So it's not that I didn't want to listen, I just couldn't. Too distracted.

Unfortunately, Eames was getting a little too used to this…

. . .

x.x.x.x.x

**"_Bobby, did you hear me? I said we need to interview Jeff's son again."_**

**"_Oh… right.. Sorry, Eames."_**

x.x.x.x.x

. . .

On top of all of that, she's been carrying most of the weight in this partnership lately.

I know I've been moody, irritable and difficult to work with, but my mind has been on overload.

This morning, Deakins promised he'd give me ten minutes before he left for lunch. There's something I have to speak with him about and it is kind of important. I'm wanting to get this over with, too.

But that ten-minute meeting which I had accepted and had been anticipating all morning should have ended about a half an hour ago.

Suddenly I hear what sounds like a door opening and closing. My head snaps up in the direction of Deakins' door.

It's still closed. Turns out to be some uniformed officer setting a heavy briefcase down on top of a desk. Probably evidence for court.

The captain is most likely on the phone. Probably something just as important.

But over the past few weeks, my patience has taken a leave of absence...

. . .

x.x.x.x.x

**_"__Just a few more questions, Mr. Goren. How long have you smoked?"_**

x.x.x.x.x

. . .

Eames tells me she wants to go to lunch. Says something about having a craving for a Philly cheese steak.

Of course, she's expecting me to go to lunch as well. To go _with her_. And _eat_. And actually be something that resembles _'company.'_

. . .

x.x.x.x.x

**"_Here is a list of foods we recommend you keep in your diet. And here's a list of foods that you should avoid."_**

x.x.x.x.x

. . .

I'm not hungry, and in fact, I could care less about food right now.

Just ten minutes with Deakins, and then maybe Eames and I can take lunch.

Well, okay… I could go with her and watch her eat.

The lights in the bullpen seem entirely too bright all of a sudden. In fact, they're making me sweat. Soon my necktie is off and sitting in a crumpled pile on my desk, and I'm wondering why I had kept it on for so long.

Eames mentions lunch again and is preparing to leave. I can't leave right now or I might miss talking to Deakins.

She knows nothing about this meeting. Can't find out just yet, either. At least not here. Maybe over a few drinks or when neither of us is exceptionally edgy.

So what do I tell her _this time_? Excuses elude me at the moment. I've exhausted the usual ones and I'm too damned tired to come up with new ones.

But I'm also tired of lying…

. . .

x.x.x.x.x

**"_Goren, this is the second time you've left early this week. You feeling okay?"_**

**"_Yeah, Captain. It must just be that flu that's going around."_**

x.x.x.x.x

**"_Bobby? What the hell's with you today?"_**

**"_Nothing. Sorry, Eames."_**

x.x.x.x.x

**"_Mr. Goren, have you been talking to anyone to help you cope with this?"_**

**"_Um… Sure."_**

x.x.x.x.x

. . .

My left knee is bouncing under the desk like a frickin' jack hammer. I reach into my desk, open the bottle of Xanax, pop two pills into my mouth, and with nothing on my desk to drink, I force them down.

I just need for this to be over. I'm a little tempted to go ahead and leave with Eames and catch Deakins later. But that would just be postponing it. Really can't prep myself for this kind of meeting all over again. It's not something I'm going to be able to keep quiet about for much longer anyway.

People have to be told. Plans have to be made. Talking to Deakins is really just step one...

. . .

x.x.x.x.x

**"_We have a few forms for you to fill out, Mr. Goren. You'll want to arrive at least 15 minutes early."_**

x.x.x.x.x

. . .

My gaze returns to the locked door to the captain's office.

_Dammit, come on Deakins! _

It's not his fault. I know this.

My patience is completely gone. I can't deal with the waiting. All I ever seem to do anymore is wait…

. . .

x.x.x.x.x

**"_Mr. Goren, we need you to come in for more tests. Can you be here at two o'clock on Thursday?"_**

x.x.x.x.x

. . .

I just need for him to poke his head out and gesture me over.

I glance back at Eames, but look away when she catches me. She knows something's up. I can't have her figure it out on her own or find out some other way. I'd rather handle this tactfully...

. . .

x.x.x.x.x

**"_Is that all you're going to eat?"_**

**"_Oh, I'm not that hungry, Eames. Want the rest?"_**

**"_Not hungry? Bobby, you haven't eaten a thing today."_**

x.x.x.x.x

. . .

I suddenly realize she was just talking to me and I have absolutely no idea what she said. I just nod politely.

She had asked me a question and is waiting on something other than a nod as a reply. "Sorry, Eames. What was that?"

"Nothing," she replies in a disappointed tone. "See you in an hour." She's up from her chair and out the door before I can form the words to tell her I'm sorry.

Dammit…

. . .

x.x.x.x.x

**"_Your form is not complete. Who is your next of kin?"_**

**"_That would be my nephew, Donnie."_**

**"_We need his contact information."_**

**"_I'm afraid I don't have that."_**

x.x.x.x.x

. . .

My gaze returns to the DD5 in my hand. At the moment, I'm just trying to look as though I'm doing something productive. Something other than sitting here and staring a damned hole in the captain's office door.

"Goren!"

My head snaps up at the sound of the captain's voice.

_It's time… _

. . .

x.x.x.x.x

**_"__Can you tell us more about your family's medical history?"_**

x.x.x.x.x

. . .

The muscles in my head tense and my stomach is in knots as I get up from the desk chair and walk over to the door. I'm starting to feel ill, but now just isn't the time...

. . .

x.x.x.x.x

**"_Is there someone who can come in with you to hear these results? A family member? Close friend?"_**

x.x.x.x.x

. . .

Deakins closes the door behind me. "Have a seat," he says, gesturing to one of the two chairs in front of his desk.

I decline, opting to remain standing a little ways back from both chairs with my fists shoved into the pockets of my pants. I choose to focus on the floor space between where I stand and the front of Deakins' desk. I find myself searching for the familiar scuff marks on the floor which I have fixated on numerous times before while in this office.

He sits down at his desk. "Is there something you wanted to talk about?"

I don't move nor speak. I have no idea where to start, and ten minutes pass before I get the nerve to even make eye contact.

I hear noises coming from the bullpen. A desk phone rings. Someone is complaining about the copier. Someone else is talking about having lunch at a new restaurant.

There's a smell of stale coffee coming from Deakins' ceramic NYPD mug, which is sitting on the left corner of his desk. The mug is blue, it's faded and has a small chip in it.

My fists unclench and I begin to tug at a loose thread inside one of the pockets.

The air in that office is still and although only a moment ago I was sweating, right now I'm cold.

Actually, I'm shivering.

For some reason, I can only focus on trivial things instead of the reason I'm in there.

And then I realize why.

It's because I've never actually said the words…

. . .

x.x.x.x.x

**"_Mr. Goren, we have the results of your lab work."_**

x.x.x.x.x

. . .

"Well? What is it, Detective?"

"Sir… I have cancer."

. . .

**TBC…**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thanks so much for the reviews! Yes, this is angsty, but I promise this will get easier! A few flashbacks (in italics) again, this time representing Alex's recollections, and you'll recognize where they're all from. Huge thanks to JamiW for transcribing the court scene in ITWSH part II for me! Takes place about a week after chapter one. Yes, Alex STILL doesn't know! **

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**Alex's POV**

**. . .**

_**x.x.x.x.x**_

"_**Do you recognize this, Detective Eames?"**_

"_**Yes, it's a letter I wrote to my superior officer 5 years ago."**_

"_**Please summarize the contents."**_

"_**It's a request for a new partner, but I withdrew my request."**_

"_**Please read the highlighted passage."**_

"_**Detective Goren's erratic and anti-social behavior, his volatile and bizarre interrogation techniques leave me with serious doubts about his judgment and mental stability…"**_

_**x.x.x.x.x**_

. . .

My headache is back. The Advil I had taken nearly two hours ago has already worn off, but I didn't have anymore. I'd have to tough it out for the rest of the afternoon.

Deakins, Carver and I are in the observation room watching my partner and the suspect in interrogation.

Bobby is trying to get a confession out of Nicholas Treith, who is facing six counts of murder.

We've determined it's a hate crime, the victims are homosexual males.

All victims were shot with the same handgun that is registered to one of Treith's friends, but we had one victim in ICU live long enough to give us a description of the suspect. A few of his acquaintances and coworkers have also attested to his aversion toward homosexual males.

Treith's a damn good liar. But if anyone could break him, it would be my partner.

Problem is… Bobby's been a little off his game lately.

Well, maybe more than a little off, he just hasn't been himself. This has been going on for the past few weeks.

He's been a lot less focused, very distant, and we're rarely on the same page anymore. He's irritable, impatient, and will snap at anyone for no reason. I spend the most time with him out of anyone, so I'm usually in his line of fire.

When I ask him about it, he'll apologize but can't seem to give me a straight answer as to what brought it on in the first place.

I haven't said anything directly to Deakins about this. I don't see much good in doing that either, and I guess I'm hoping he'll get through this phase.

Bobby's also been fighting a persistent cough for weeks, and like any man, he's a pain in the ass when he's sick. He could have come down with a bad case of the flu or something, although that might not entirely explain his behavior. Of course, he hasn't been able to knock whatever it is out of his system. Judging from how fatigued and withdrawn he seems, it could even be mono.

I did suggest that he go see a doctor, but he told me he had already been. Wish I could believe that.

He'll occasionally have good moments or days when he's more distant than snappy. But all too soon, he's back to being edgy and difficult to work with.

**_x.x.x_**

I re-focus on the interrogation. I had anticipated going in there with Bobby to run our good cop – bad cop act on Treith, but Bobby wanted to try solo first.

There's one other thing about Treith… His eyes are constantly on me whenever we're in the same room. It's like he's checking me out and it's not exactly working for me. It's definitely made me regret putting on my short black skirt this morning. So it really wasn't a hard sell for me to hand Bobby the reins on this one.

They've been in there for about fifty minutes so far. Bobby's been trying to get Treith to admit to being homophobic. As I said, Treith's a damn good liar. Or he puts on a good act anyway. Right now, Bobby's showing him pictures of same-sex couples and generally doing whatever he can to try and rattle him.

The conversation between Deakins and Carver momentarily catches my attention. It's about Bobby. As usual, Carver is calling him incompetent. It doesn't matter if Bobby's having a good day or a bad day, Carver usually holds the same opinion of my partner.

Deakins always notices when things are off between Bobby and I. Although he hasn't said much to me lately, he has pulled Bobby into his office a few times since this all began. From what I can tell, the outcomes are usually peaceful.

Carver speaks up, directing the comment to both of us. "This is fascinating, but I've gotta run. Call me if anything changes," he says, and leaves the room.

"At least he hasn't cried 'lawyer' yet," I remark about Treith, when Deakins walks up to join me by the glass. Out of the corner of my eye I see him nod in agreement.

"How's everything going, Alex?" he asks me quietly. He's looking directly at Bobby and I know he's not referring to the case.

I'm not sure what to expect from this exchange, so I choose to keep it simple. "Just fine, thanks," I answer him.

"Sure," he replies. But there's sarcasm in his tone.

I turn my head and look at him suspiciously.

"You're a trooper and Goren's been a real pain in the ass lately," he asserts, without taking his eyes off of the two in the interrogation room.

I'm stuck trying to come up with a response, until he speaks again.

"But I think your patience with him has done a lot of good," he adds.

"What patience?" I reply, shaking my head.

He smiles. "Believe me, Alex. He thinks you're a saint."

I stand there mulling over that comment for a minute before realizing that it could have been said at any point during our partnership. Might not necessarily apply now. I'll admit that I haven't exactly handled things very well either.

I continue watching Bobby, allowing my thoughts to drift. It seems like Bobby… well, the 'real Bobby,' has been gone for the past few weeks and I've actually been dealing with a temporary partner.

But there are times, like now, when he's right in his element and it's like having my old friend back.

There's a knock on the door to the observation room. We both turn as the door opens and a uniformed officer steps inside with a note for Deakins. He scans the note, nods to the uni, and the uni starts to leave.

Suddenly, something erupts in the interrogation room. It sounds like furniture being tossed around. The three of us turn in the direction of the racket and see chairs being knocked over, and Treith and Bobby throwing punches. I rush toward the door, and Deakins and the uni follow.

Deakins grabs Bobby, the uni and I grab Treith, and we separate the two men.

Treith's about Bobby's size and weight, and unfortunately for Bobby, in much better shape. Treith winds up with a busted lip, but Bobby's hunched over. I can't see Bobby's face, but it looks like he's had the wind knocked out of him. He's gasping for air. Deakins quickly motions for the uni's help and they rush Bobby out of there. I want to go with my partner, but I wind up waiting with the suspect while someone tends to his busted lip.

Treith is of course asking for his lawyer, crying police brutality and insisting that Bobby threw the first punch.

Almost fifteen minutes later, I'm outside of the captain's office knocking on the door. The door is locked and it's just Bobby in there with him. They know I'm there, but continue their conversation. Finally after several minutes pass, Bobby approaches the door. He opens it for me and then quickly heads out without saying a word. I stand there feeling confused for a second, not sure whether to follow Bobby or go into the office and get the story out of Deakins.

I hesitate too long and miss the direction that Bobby went in, so I approach the captain. "What the hell just happened?"

"I sent him home," he responds without looking away from the computer screen.

"Yeah, but what happened in there?"

He's quiet for a minute, his eyes shifting around the computer screen and I think he's either trying to multi-task or else coming up with a suitable answer to give. Instead, he completely dodges my question with one of his own. "Treith finally cry 'lawyer'?"

He looks directly at me and I nod.

"Carver's on his way back and you'll probably have to absorb any unpleasantries he has to say about your partner. I've got a meeting with Moran otherwise I'd join you."

I nod once again and silently remind myself that it's Friday afternoon and the day's almost over.

"Sir…"

"He's fine, Detective," he replies. And I know that's the end of that discussion.

I turn to leave, but then the realization hits me and I stop dead in my tracks…

_Deakins knows more about what's going on with my partner than I do._

My heart rate quickens and the knot in my stomach wonder the captain's not as confused as I am. A little information goes a long way. I sure as hell could use some.

I take a couple of deep breaths as I exit the office and close the door behind me.

I pull out my cell phone and call my partner. He's probably long gone and it's unlikely he'll answer. Right now, I can't exactly go after him to find out what just happened. The call goes to voicemail and I leave a short message asking Bobby to call me.

He won't, of course.

So let me see if I can sum this all up…

Most likely, it was my partner who threw the first punch at the suspect and the defense is going to have a field day with this.

Because of the altercation in the interrogation room and given Bobby's moodiness lately, the shit's going to hit the fan pretty damned hard, and IAB will probably wind up suspending him again.

That is… unless they decide to fire him instead.

Carver's going to be mad as hell and I've got to listen to rant on and on this afternoon about how incompetent he thinks Bobby is.

I'd take '_grumpy Goren_' over '_crass Carver_' any day of the week.

Then there's Deakins…

He knows what's been going on with Bobby, information that would have helped me a few weeks ago, and I'm apparently supposed to be kept in the dark.

I'm about ready to hit something.

_Or someone…_ If Treith puts more than just his eyes on me this afternoon, he's going to be on Liz's table before they reach a settlement.

I need to calm down. Maybe I'll go for a run after my shift. Not sure if I've got enough alcohol at home to get me through this night.

A little before five o'clock, Carver and the defense attorney reach a settlement. I update Deakins, finish my paperwork, and then head for the garage.

**. . .**

_**x.x.x.x.x**_

"_**Redirect your honor. Detective Eames, please explain why you withdrew your request."**_

"_**I was used to working with more conventional detectives. Detective Goren's style is definitely unique and an acquired taste. Over time, I came to see that his approach was based on a deep understanding of human behavior. I came to appreciate him as an ethical person and an effective police officer."**_

_**x.x.x.x.x**_

**. . .**

I get inside my car and start the engine. The stereo comes on and the MP3 I had left in there earlier starts to play. I turn the heat on full blast and wait for it to warm up.

Then I take a minute to regroup, listening to a rather sobering tune and allowing my thoughts drift.

And it's usually to the same place…

What the hell is going on with my partner? What's more, why won't anyone tell me anything?

Is he having some sort of personal struggle? Is it the job? Is it some sort of mid-life crisis?

_Is it me? _

Maybe there's a point at which a partnership just doesn't work anymore.

Tears fill my eyes, and because I'm alone, I don't bother trying to stop them. I'm too tired, my headache has turned fierce, and the last case was provoking enough.

Not knowing exactly what's going on with Bobby has been the hardest. I've spent way too much time guessing.

He's really making my job harder. I hate to admit it, but I'm reaching my limit. I've tried to be patient, but I'm tired of this.

Tired of his moods. Tired of feeling like I'm working alone. Tired of making excuses for him whenever he snaps at someone.

Tired of thinking this is all just going to pass because I'm usually proven wrong. The good moments are too short-lived.

We used to be such a good team. We could read each other so well. Now I have no idea what's going on with him because he won't talk to me. Barely even looks me in the eye anymore.

What I'm honestly reading from him lately is that he doesn't want this job or the partnership.

So why doesn't he just ask for a transfer? Is he afraid he's going to hurt my feelings? Sure couldn't hurt much worse than this.

As my closest friend, I love and care about him. But lately, I've also started to hate him.

Feels like I've lost my best friend and I miss him… I miss eating lunch together. I miss happy hour, which usually turns into dinner and will go on for hours unless one of us has plans. I miss talking about random things. I miss the things I've always liked about him. I miss his quirks. I even miss the things about Bobby that would sometimes annoy me.

But I don't have it in me to keep going like this. I mean, how much longer can this last? _Weeks? Months? Longer?_

_**. . .**_

_**x.x.x.x.x**_

"_**You worried about what she said? That your career is tainted by me?"  
**_

"_**I used to."  
**_

"_**And now?"  
**_

"_**It's too late."**_

_**x.x.x.x.x**_

_. . ._

_Sorry, Bobby. I can't do this anymore..._

I put the car in reverse, back out, exit the garage, and the car practically steers itself to Brooklyn.

**TBC… **

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**A/N…Stay tuned for WW III…. (Oops, I meant chapter 3. ;) I just finished it and it's intense! Trust me, this is all coming together and relief is in sight! **

**A/N 2…The song Alex is listening to is one of my frequent plays lately… Jonatha Brooke's cover of **_**"Eye in the sky." **_


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N…Angst alert! ****This is a tough chapter BUT it's also a major turning point in the story and you will get some relief. I really like the way it came together. Thanks for sticking with me! **

**A/N 2: I listened to the song mentioned below on repeat while writing this.**

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"_The broken clock is a comfort, it helps me sleep tonight.  
Maybe it can stop tomorrow from stealing all my time…"_

-"_Broken" – Lifehouse_

**Bobby's POV**

_**x.x.x.x.x**_

_**~Earlier...~**_

"_**You don't like gay men."**_

"_**I didn't say that."**_

"_**You can't stand to look at these pictures. This repulses you."**_

"_**No."**_

"_**You sure about that?" **_

"_**I'd rather look at naked pictures of your partner…"**_

_**x.x.x.x.x**_

Didn't get very far with Treith. He kept directing everything back to Eames.

Or some sick fantasy he had over women in general. It just got worse and worse.

I find it hard to believe that he doesn't already have a rap sheet full of sex crimes. I tried redirecting him at first, but then I just started ignoring every other comment.

I knew he was responding to the pictures, and there were enough signs of physiological discomfort to back that up. I just couldn't get him to admit it.

But I was probably more uncomfortable with his remarks about my partner and I think he realized this. I knew that if he had come on to her she'd handle it, but I still didn't want him anywhere near her.

I used to be able to channel things like that better. It finally got on my last nerve, so I busted his lip. But hell, he provoked it.

Deakins sent me home. Said he'd deal with Moran and the fall out over the incident. I'm probably going to owe him as many favors as I owe Eames.

There's a knock on the door. I glanced at the clock—5:52pm. I didn't have to guess who it was.

I screwed up earlier, haven't called her back or responded to her texts, and I know she's angry. She has every right to be. But I don't have the energy to take what I know I probably deserve.

She knocks on the door a couple more times. I remember her emergency key just as I hear it in the lock. I get up from my usual spot on the floor in the kitchen, take one more drag of my cigarette and then put it out in an ashtray just as she opens the door and walks in.

"Hey, Eames," I greet her. "Sorry… I heard you knock, but I was in the middle of something," I say. It's a lie and we both know it.

Of course I'm happy to see her. Always happy to see Eames. I just didn't want the tongue lashing I was about to get. On top of dealing with me, she's also had to endure Carver and Treith this afternoon, and I'm afraid to hear how all of that turned out.

She avoids eye contact, glancing around my apartment for a minute without saying a word. She's very upset, looks like she might have even been crying.

And of course, it's my fault.

Lately it's been easier to just push her away, and I've had to tell myself often that it's to protect the both of us.

"You hear from Deakins?" she asks, as she wanders further into the apartment. I know she's asking if I got suspended.

"Yeah," I reply, smiling at her. "He worked it out. But of course, I'm on very thin ice."

She looks at me disbelievingly.

"I owe him big," I add.

"You're damn right," she retorts. Neither one of us speaks for a couple of minutes. All I hear is the ticking of the clock on the kitchen wall and the hum of the refrigerator.

"Bobby… I can't do this anymore," she says softly.

"What? Can't do what anymore?"

"I'm putting in for a transfer. Might take the captain's exam and if I pass, I'll fill in wherever there's a spot. I don't know exactly, but I'm leaving Major Case."

_To get away from me…_ But she didn't have to say it.

It was like re-living Treith's punch all over again. It's not like I didn't see this coming, though. "Well…" I begin. I try to come up with something encouraging to say but I hesitate too long.

"Just thought you should know," she says.

"Okay."

She looks disheartened. "Okay? _Really_?"

"Sure. If it's what you want," I answer. I didn't want her to leave, but who am I to stand in her way? Especially with the way things have been going between us lately. She deserves better.

She strolls slowly toward the door. Suddenly she stops and turns back toward me tearfully. "You know… I can't say that I'm regretting this decision…," she sniffles and rubs her nose with the back of her hand, "but at least I'm upset to have to walk away from this partnership."

I'm wishing there was some way to just push a pause button on my life until I figure everything out.

"I guess I was kind of hoping you'd be a little upset too, Bobby."

I look at her, but words won't form. And anyway, I'd either say too much or too little.

"Well…It's been real. " She turns and her hand is on the door knob.

"Eames, wait!"

"What?"

I take a couple of steps closer. "I want you to be happy. I think you'd make a great captain."

"Thanks," she says quietly. It's not very convincing.

I know she's going to leave and but I can't seem to let her. "So-um… What happened with Treith?"

"Settled," she replies, taking her hand off the door knob. "Life without parole."

"He's a prick."

She walks back toward me. "So why'd you punch him?"

I look away from her, hesitating a bit on my answer. "He- um, he…kind of provoked it."

"How?"

"By being himself."

"I hope it helped," she says dryly

"Kind of," I reply. "Rather see him get the needle."

"So what exactly did he say in there?"

"He was just…you know….being rude. Saying…_things_." My eyes probably didn't hide the fact that she was focus of the dispute.

"About…_me?_"

"Yeah," I confirm.

"So- That punch? That was…for _me_?"

I shrug. "It was for both of us."

She finally smiles. Well, a slight smile anyway. "You know I'm a big girl, right?"

"He was pushing my buttons. Being…repulsive. Anyway, I'm sorry. I know I only made things worse."

"Well, for Carver."

"So how pissed was he?"

"You don't even want to know," she replies, shaking her head. "Guess…I'll go," she says quietly.

"Okay."

She turns and walks toward the door, hesitating just a minute with her hand on the knob. I can sense the pain she's in and I hate myself for it. But I can't continue to hurt her the way I have. I'm biting the inside of my cheek and trying my best not to delay her again. I know I have to let her go.

Finally the door opens, then she's on the other side, and then it's closed again.

She's gone.

The ticking of the kitchen clock seems louder all of a sudden. I find myself counting the clicks of the second hand. It's a distraction at best.

Thirty-three clicks later, I rush toward the door and pull it open. I expect her to be out of the building by now, but she's still standing there. Her head is down, arms are folded and she's facing the door.

I remain at the doorway and she's about a foot away. "Eames?"

She suddenly pushes past me and marches back into my apartment. "I don't understand," she says as she enters.

I shut the door and turn to face her.

"I need you to help me understand!"

"Understand what?"

She folds her arms defensively. "Bobby, what in the hell happened to us? To this partnership? What have I done?"

"You haven't done anything."

"Then, what's going on?"

"Nothing!"

Eames shakes her head bitterly. In her eyes, there are tears. There is anger, hatred and pain.

"No! Don't you dare! It's about damn time you come clean! Explain to me why in the hell we can't work together anymore! I've been patient, I haven't pushed you about any of this, but enough is enough! I've taken a lot of crap from you through the years, I've defended you and all you do lately is snap at me or shut me out. I don't know where your head is half the time, and you know we can't work like that! I think I at least deserve an honest answer before I walk away from this partnership and I'm not leaving here until you give me one!"

She's shouting and I suspect that a couple of my neighbors probably heard her.

"I'm sorry, Eames! Just haven't been myself." I can't hit her with everything. She's leaving and doesn't need to endure anymore of it.

"No! That answer's not going to work for me anymore!" she says gruffly.

"It's nothing you need to worry about _anymore!_" I shoot back. And I'd just raised my voice to match hers.

"Where the HELL do you get off?"

Right then, one of my neighbor's pounds on the door, saying we're being too loud.

We ignore him, but she tries to keep her volume down as she speaks again. "You don't want to be partners? Then why didn't you just tell me this weeks ago? Could have spared me a lot of grief!"

"If you want to transfer, then go ahead and transfer!"

She takes a deep breath and tries to compose herself. "What I want, is to find out what in the hell is going on with you. I've tried to be a friend and a supportive partner. What the hell did I do that was so wrong?"

"I don't need this, Eames!"

"I don't need this either!" she snaps. "You know… You're going to piss off the wrong person some day and end up either in jail or in a body bag. If that's what you want, then I guess I can't stop you."

I sigh heavily.

She continues. "I'm trying to figure out what I could have done differently! Bobby, I'm stuck here! Why the hell won't you just answer me honesty?"

"Just leave it alone, Eames!"

"Go to hell!"

I'm mad at myself for not handling this better but she's pressing and I just don't have it in me. All I'm doing is taking it out on her, but I can't seem to stop myself.

"Go….be….captain somewhere," I tell her, then I walk past her and plop down on the couch. She sits on the arm of the couch to my left. "I'm sorry I've been such a burden," I say quietly. "Hopefully you'll have better luck with the next person you work with. Or supervise."

About ten minutes pass and she hasn't left or said a word.

Dammit, she's a stubborn woman.

I finally get up, walk over to the kitchen and grab my pack of cigarettes. I don't want to smoke around her because I know she doesn't like it, but she's intent on staying. I remove one, tap the butt of the cigarette on the edge of the counter, and grab the lighter from my pocket. But I hold off on lighting it when I see her start walking toward me. I sit the pack, lighter and the cigarette down on the counter.

She now has me cornered in the kitchen.

She takes a couple of steps closer and we're inches apart. "To think I used to care about you," she begins tearfully. "I used to call you a friend. I need answers because I'm trying to figure out what I could've done to make you shut me out. I don't want to have this ever happen again, because you know what? It hurts! I don't think I deserve it and I'm tired of being treated this way. Have a nice life!"

She turns and walks out of the kitchen. She's finally done with me.

Fear takes over. "Eames!"

She doesn't stop. I follow her into the living room.

"Eames!"

Her hand is on the knob and the door's open.

"Dammit, stop!"

She finally does.

"Fine, you want to know what's up?"

The door closes, she turns back toward me. "Would it hurt you that much to tell me?"

"Yes! Yes, actually, it would!"

"Why?"

I start to pace. "Because, this is too much! It's too much for me and I'm trying not dump anything else on you!"

She folds her arms. "Why don't you let me be the judge of what I can and can't handle?"

I take a deep breath before I speak. "I…have cancer."

Her eyes widen. She looks stunned. "What?"

"I've got a mass in my right lung. It was diagnosed a couple of weeks ago."

She approaches me sluggishly.

"That answer your question?" I snap. Like I said, I can't seem to stop hurting her.

She lowers her gaze back toward the floor but doesn't reply. After a couple of minutes pass, she glances back up at me. "How does telling me the truth hurt you?"

"Like you said… We're friends," I respond shyly.

"_Are we?"_

"I guess…"

"I still don't understand. If we're friends, then why couldn't you tell me?"

"I- I didn't know how to tell you!" I argue defensively.

"You just needed to be straight with me."

Dead silence again. I wander back into the kitchen and sit down on the floor. I reach an arm up and retrieve the cigarette and lighter I left on the counter, and then settle back against the cabinet.

She walks into the kitchen. "You think that might have something to do with it?" she asks wryly, pointing to the cigarette in my hand.

I place it between my lips. "Yeah, but you know what? I don't care. I've got to deal with this!"

"You could try eliminating the cause!"

I roll my eyes at her.

"Bobby, are you really just going to let this play out?"

I shrug. "Don't have much choice."

"No, see…I think you do! First of all," she grabs the pack and snatches the cigarette from between my lips, "no more cigarettes!" She walks out of there, and seconds later I hear the toilet flush. She returns to the kitchen and starts opening the cabinets and the refrigerator. "Buy some food. Preferably something healthy." She closes the refrigerator door and turns to me. "I don't know what you're supposed to eat or not eat, but I know that somewhere there's a list of recommended foods for cancer patients."

"Yeah, I've got that."

"Where?"

I finally stand back up. "Somewhere… Look, why are you doing this?"

"Because if I don't, who will?"

"You can't fix this, Eames! There's nothing you can do! You can't make this all go away!"

She ignores my rant. "What stage is it? What about treatment? What did the doctors tell you?"

"Stage 1 or 2. Surgery's possible but it's iffy that they'll get everything," I reply. "I'm supposed to set that up," I add, mostly as a reminder to myself.

"Good. When?"

"Next week. Look, it doesn't matter! You're done with me, remember? I'll figure all of this out. You go be…Captain Eames." I walk out of the kitchen, grab my coat from the back of a chair and head for the door. Have to clear my head.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"Out."

"To buy more cigarettes?"

I turn back toward her angrily. "What? No! Eames, you know I'm not a chain smoker! You want me to quit, fine I'll quit. But I need to get out of here right now. I need a break from all of this!"

She moves to where she's blocking the door so that I can't leave. "A break from what? From me?"

"From all of this! From fighting with you! The cancer… I'm tired of thinking about it. Sick of dealing with it. Too many doctors! Too many appointments! It's taken over my whole damn life! I'm done talking about this!" I try to push past her but she blocks the door.

"Stop! Bobby…"

"Dammit, Eames just leave me the hell alone!" Right then, I start one of my bad coughing spells. There's not a lot I can do for those, but I do have something to quiet the cough. Medicine's in the bathroom, so I head for bathroom and slam the door.

_**. . .**_

_**x.x.x.x.x**_

**Alex's POV**

I sit down on the couch not knowing what to do. I can't leave him like this. I hear him coughing hard and although I want to go make sure he's okay, he's also wanting space and I have to respect that.

My tenacity is gone. I'm still a little angry at him, but I'm mostly scared. My concern is for Bobby. I'm not letting go.

Twenty minutes later he still hasn't come out. I know he's probably waiting for me to leave. He's expecting it.

Suddenly, I hear a big crash in the other room.

It scares me enough to get up from the couch and go check on him.

He's in the bathroom. I listen at the door for a second. It's quiet again.

And then I hear the gasps.

He could be hurt. I don't care how stubborn he wants to be, I'm going in there.

Fortunately he didn't lock me out. I open the bathroom door and see Bobby sitting on the floor beside the bathtub. He's got a blood-soaked hand towel pressed to his right palm and he's holding it over the tub. There are fragments of glass all over the bathroom. I glance up and discover that it was a large glass light fixture that made the crash.

What almost breaks me in half though, is the sight of this man hunkered down on the floor sobbing. His shoulders are hunched over, his head is lowered and he's turned away from me so I can't see his face.

He's finally reached his breaking point. Of course, I'm probably the only person to get him worked up enough to finally break. He's not made of steal, even though he'd like to believe otherwise.

"Bobby?"

"God…I'm sor-ry…Eames." His voice is broken, words are breathy and barely above a whisper.

There's no way to keep myself from crying at this point.

Everything is crystal clear to me now. He's been trying to deal with the diagnosis and thought he had nowhere to turn. He has a hard time letting people in, although I used to think I was an exception. And to top it off, this has probably brought back memories of when his mom had cancer.

I walk across the broken glass that litters the tile floor, shove his bath scale out of the way, squat down behind Bobby, and wrap my arms around him.

He sniffles, and reaches his uninjured hand over and secures my arms. _He's letting me in._

I can't even speak. I just lean in close and continue to hold him. My chin is tucked down against his shoulder. His shirt is getting wet from my tears.

"I'm sorry," he says again.

"It's okay."

"I don't know how to handle…any of this."

I don't respond, but I don't know how to handle it either. My heart's broken. I don't even know how to accept the fact that he's got cancer.

_A mass in his lung? God…_

Soon it's anyone's guess as to who is crying harder.

We're like this for a while and my legs start to give out, so I shift to my knees, checking the bathmat that's under my feet to make sure that I'm not about to kneel on some glass.

He clears his throat and starts to speak again. "I didn't mean… what I said earlier."

"I know."

"Just… too easy to give up."

"I won't let you give up," I reply.

"Please don't…leave. Don't…tr-transfer."

"I'm not going anywhere, partner."

**TBC..**

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**A/N… Still plenty of excitement to come! **


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N… SO sorry it's been so long! This is a tough one to write and I kept having new ideas for stories. Finally feels like I've got the momentum back. **

**One other note… I do have family members who have had, or who are battling cancer. I'm trying to keep things as realistic in this story as possible, but there may be some errors or things I put in to help the story along. I apologize for those errors or discrepancies in advance. **

**In that last chapter we left Alex consoling Bobby in the bathroom after he finally let her in on his news. New characters are being introduced this chapter. They have specific roles to help guide the story, but their parts are brief. The focus **_**IS**_** Bobby and Alex.**

**Thanks for reading and I LOVE reviews!**

_**x x x**_

**Alex's POV**

**~Present~ **

It has only been a few weeks since I first stepped through the doors to this place and I was getting to know it fairly well.

The walls in this room have a textured, light beige wallpaper. The carpet is a gray-green.

There are thirty-two brown vinyl upholstered chairs arranged in rows—some face each other, others are back-to-back. Wooden end tables are positioned between every few chairs.

_People, Time_ and _Highlights_ magazines are arranged neatly on the end tables, along with cardboard display stands containing every kind of pamphlet on cancer diagnoses and treatment.

There are also a few tables and chairs set up where patients could sit to complete all of the required medical forms.

I don't know exactly when, but at some point the enormous knot in my stomach that surfaced whenever I would walk through the doors of this building finally ceased.

It wasn't easier, just becoming routine.

_The Brooklyn Cancer Treatment Center. _

The BCTC is a large facility that handles diagnostics, treatment and surgery. From children to geriatric populations. Highly specialized, medical staff. Reportedly one of the best in the country.

That was mostly due to the staff. The head nurses are Nancy, who works nights, and Vera, who works days.

Between the two, Vera's got the sunniest personality.

Nancy is another story. Some might perceive her as cold and unapproachable. She tended to keep to herself and it may have even appeared that she didn't get along with certain people. I couldn't imagine what her job is like or what it would take to work at a place like this any more than some would imagine what my job is like. So I guess I understood her.

Fortunately, I already had an in with both of them by association; both Nancy and Vera adore Bobby.

When I first noticed this, I stopped worrying about whether or not he had been in good care for the past few months

_**x.x.x**_

Several weeks have passed since the night I found out that my partner has cancer.

My life seemed to be veering off its usual course, and while I have no idea where this is leading me, I didn't want to be anywhere else.

Hasn't exactly been a smooth transition for Bobby and me. There were a couple of rather heated discussions as I tried to get him to talk to me again.

Fortunately, one day he stopped fighting me as much.

The friendship was back. We were close again. Even spent more time together.

If he wasn't at work that day, I'd stop by to see him in the evening. Sometimes I'd pick him up from an appointment. He didn't want to spend too much time talking about his condition, so I'd mostly just fill him in on my cases. If I wound up at his apartment after work, I'd often stay until he decided to go to sleep.

At first, I felt a little intrusive, but the truth is I missed him. I hated seeing his empty desk chair at work whenever he had to take a sick day.

Fortunately, I think he missed me too.

Or maybe he just missed having someone to argue with.

I did the best I could to support him, but I didn't have the same experiences dealing with the disease.

For that, I was glad he had met some people.

The first is Adam Brady. I see this becoming a long-term friendship.

Then there's Adam's daughter, Morgan…

_**x x x**_

**~Past~**

It's about 6:00pm, and I'm waiting for Bobby to get out of an appointment. I glance up from the magazine in my hand and see a little girl walk into the room. She heads toward the nurses' station, where Nancy's looking over a patient's file.

Nancy looks up. "Well hello, Miss Brady," she greets the little girl warmly. "Did you have good day?"

I can't really sense the association between the two, but there was some sort of established rapport. The little girl could be a family member of a patient or of someone who works at the hospital. Either way, Nancy seems genuinely happy to see her.

I hadn't seen Nancy interact with many children. She's kind but doesn't greet them with the same enthusiasm that Vera does. Nancy's probably in her early 60s, I'd guess, and I've never seen any pictures nor heard her talk about any grandchildren.

"Eh," the little girl replies half-heartedly.

"You need a special cocktail?" Nancy inquires somewhat playfully.

The little girl thinks for a moment and then nods.

"Okay." She gets up from her chair and walks over to a mini refrigerator. She takes out some ginger ale and something mixed in a plastic pitcher and then looks back at the girl. "On the rocks or straight up?"

"Straight up," she answers with a little more interest.

I hadn't noticed that Vera had walked back in to the area until she taps me on the shoulder. I almost jump from the contact.

"Oh, sorry, hon. Didn't mean to startle you. I'm about to head home and just wanted to say hello." She walks on toward the counter. Vera's got her coat on and is carrying a small, cloth white tote bag. "Hey, Fireball," she greets the little girl.

"Hi Vera," the girl replies.

Nancy hands the girl what appears to be a lightweight plastic version of a brandy glass filled with this mystery cocktail. She drinks the beverage down rather quickly.

"Cocktail? Should I ask?" I pose to Vera when she wanders back into the waiting room area and begins straightening up the magazines on the table beside me. I know it's not alcohol, but I couldn't help but wonder what the game was.

Vera chuckles. "Just berry punch with some ginger ale. It's Fireball's special drink that Nancy makes for her on 'tough days.'"

"Oh," I reply.

Vera walks back toward the counter. "So… Are you meeting Gordon for dinner tonight?"

Nancy asks her.

"Mmmm-hmmm. Sure am!" she responds smittenly.

"Good for you! You two don't go getting into trouble, now."

Vera looks back at her coworker. "Honey, at our age, it's all trouble!"

"Will you tell me about it in the morning, or should I just wait and read about it in the Times?" Nancy teases.

"It's only trouble if we old folks are out any later than 9:30," she responds. "Night everyone!" She waves to the three of us before she heads down the hall toward the exit.

The little girl glances at me curiously, and then makes her way over to me.

"Hi! I'm Morgan Brady. What's your name?" She extends her hand to me.

I shake her hand. "I'm Alex. Nice to meet you, Morgan."

The janitor enters the waiting room area and starts emptying a few of the trash cans. "Hey Fireball," he greets Morgan.

"Hi Dwight," she replies. She turns back to me. "Oh, and they sometimes call me 'Fireball.' It's the hair," she explains, gesturing to her red hair.

"No, it's the attitude," Dwight corrects. "It's all attitude!" he directs toward me with a smirk. He pushes the large gray trash bin toward another can near the back of the room.

Morgan happens to be blocking his path.

"Excuse me, honey," he says.

"I'm standing here, sweetheart," she shoots back.

Dwight shakes his head and chuckles as he looks at me. "See what I mean?" He backs up and directs it in another direction until he reaches the place he was headed.

"Are you visiting someone?" she asks me.

I never know how to answer this question when I meet other people here. "Um, yes. A friend."

"Who is it? I know everyone here. I probably know them."

"His name is Bobby."

She thinks for a moment and then her eyes light up as the recognition sets in. "Really tall guy? Kind of quiet? Oh, and a cop?"

"Sounds like him."

She giggles. "I like Bobby!" Her expression changes a little, as she recalls some specific memory and then she adds, "He's a little cranky sometimes, but I like him."

I chuckle at her comment.

She abruptly turns back to the nursing desk and sees a medical assistant who appears to be going on break. "Hey Becky… Could you braid my hair?" she requests.

"Can't right now. Sorry, Fireball," Becky answers, and then hurries toward the door.

"Nancy?"

"I'm not very good at it, sweetie," she replies without looking away from the chart in her hand.

"I'll braid your hair," I offer. Why not? I have nothing else to do and she seems like a sweet little girl.

She turns back toward me with a big grin. "Thanks, Alex!"

Morgan sits down on the floor in front of me, takes a white scrunchie out of her pocket and hands it to me. Her hair is just past her shoulders.

"You have very pretty hair, Morgan," I comment.

"Thank you," she replies.

As I part her hair into three strands and start to braid it, she tells me more about herself. She's going to be ten next month and she's in the forth grade. She loves horses. She says she spends a lot of her time here at the hospital and knows everyone. I still didn't know why she was here or who she was visiting.

I finish braiding her hair and at that same moment, I hear Bobby's voice from somewhere down one of the corridors. He is talking with someone.

"Thanks, Alex," Morgan says. She reacts to the same set of voices that I had heard and tries to place the location. As soon as she does, she gets up and takes off running down one of the halls. I hear them getting closer, so I follow her.

"Hey, Dad. Hi, Bobby," she greets them enthusiastically.

"Hey, kiddo," Bobby greets Morgan. He smiles, glancing from Morgan to me as I approach.

The man with Bobby is slightly shorter, has brownish gray hair and a very young face. He lifts Morgan up into his arms and she settles against his side.

"Alex, this is Adam Brady. Adam, this is my partner, Alex Eames."

Adam nods, glancing from Bobby to me. "So this is the famous 'Alex Eames.' Nice to finally meet you."

"Nice to meet you too, Adam."

"And you've already met Morgan," Bobby states.

"She braided my hair," Morgan reports, showing them her braid.

"She kept me company," I explain.

Adam and Bobby finish up their conversation. After a moment, Morgan starts shifting in his arms, indicating that she wants to get back down. "Keys, Dad," she requests when she's standing again.

"Driving already?" I ask jokingly.

"No, and I'm not even close to ready for that day yet," Adam chuckles. He takes the keys out of his pocket and hands them to her.

"Bye Bobby, bye Alex!" she says, and then disappears down the hall.

"She'll let herself into the car and I'll have to listen to whatever she's selected. I guess I'll head out too. Nice meeting you, Alex."

"You too," I respond.

"Catch you later, Bobby."

"Night, Adam."

Then Bobby and I are alone.

"Morgan's something else," I comment, as we step out into the parking garage.

"Yeah, she's a character," he says. He doesn't say a word until we're back inside the SUV. "She's had leukemia," he explains, answering the question I'd been afraid to ask. "Been in remission for a year and a half. Adam's got lung cancer and is about to start chemo. His dad has a brain tumor. That's who they were visiting. His is terminal, might not make the year. Damn cancer runs in their family," he adds disheartened.

"What about Morgan's mom?"

Bobby sighs. "Died in a car accident when Morgan was four."

I search for words to reply, but there doesn't seem to be any.

"Morgan keeps everyone going," Bobby adds.

"Not surprised," I remark.

He's quiet for a minute and then speaks up again. "She makes a point of meeting everyone and gets to know them. Between her, her dad and her grandfather, she spends a lot of time at this place. Whenever she's here, she seems to gravitate toward patients who are depressed and gets them talking. She's young, but she's so perceptive."

I smile. I could tell he was very taken with her

**x x x**

A few weeks later, Bobby's finally scheduled to have surgery.

After a prolonged delay that morning, Vera brought me to one of the outpatient rooms to wait with Bobby. I wasn't entirely sure that he wanted me in there, but Vera thought my presence would help to calm his nerves.

He sat in a hospital gown, in a wheelchair while medical assistants, nurses, and doctors hurried in all directions.

The one complaint I could make about this facility is that everything took a pretty damn long time to get going. I guess it's not unlike any other facility.

We had been there since a little before 7:00 that morning and it was nearing 10:00.

Suddenly, through the steady stream of medical staff, Adam surfaces in the doorway. "Hey, Bobby."

Bobby's expression relaxes just a little. "Hey, Adam."

"Are you…um…up for some 'pint-sized' company?"

A smile slowly surfaces. "Sure, she can come in."

Adam raises his arm up, Morgan ducks underneath it and comes in.

"Hey, kiddo," he greets her.

"Bobby!" she says enthusiastically, rushing up to his chair. She hugs just his right side and Bobby reaches his arm out and hugs her back. She stays by his side.

After a moment, she glances over at me and smiles. "Hi, Alex!"

I smile and wave back.

Bobby and Adam start into a conversation. Adam seems to be trying to help him take his mind off of the impending surgery, which works for the time being.

Meanwhile, I see Morgan sizing up the situation surrounding Bobby's surgery. She rolls her eyes and shakes her head. "This place is so slow, sometimes," she complains. She looks back at Bobby when their conversation ceases. "It'll be okay. It'll be over before you know it," she says, trying to reassure him.

She launches into a little bit of her past experiences and how she made it through her surgeries. Turns out she's had a couple, but not all pertained to cancer.

Bobby bites back a smile, listening intently to her advice while she tells him what to expect.

When she's done, she glances down at her arm and removes the yellow bracelet from around her wrist. It's the one that says, 'Livestrong.' She hands it to Bobby. "Here. You have this. It's what I wore the last time I had surgery."

"She had her tonsils out," Adam informs us quietly.

"Nah-uh, I wore it before then too," she corrects him.

"Honey, I'm not sure they'll let him have that for his surgery."

"It won't hurt anything, Dad." She turns back to Bobby. "Here, you have this."

"You're sweet, but that's yours. You should keep it," he counters.

"I want you to have it," she insists.

"But it's yours."

Morgan rolls her eyes and huffs as she draws her hand back and shakes her head. "See…the way this works is…" She pauses and lifts Bobby's wrist, the one without the medical bracelet on it, turns his hand over and puts the bracelet in his palm, "you take the bracelet, you put it on your wrist, and you say, 'thank you, kiddo!'"

Bobby smiles, and politely accepts the bracelet. "Thank you, kiddo."

Adam turns to Morgan. "Honey, we've got to go."

Morgan steps on one of the foot rests of Bobby's wheelchair, and leans in to give him a peck on the cheek. "It'll be okay. And who knows, if they wait long enough, maybe the cancer will disappear on its own," she says wryly, directing her remark at one of the medical staff who had briefly stepped inside to leave a note for the doctor.

She turns back to Bobby and smiles. "I'll come by to see you when you get out of surgery."

Adam and Morgan leave and the medical staff continue roaming about. It's quiet in there, aside from the noises in the hallway. Bobby starts to fidget after a while. He holds Morgan's bracelet in his right hand while his left hand taps nervously against arm of the wheelchair.

I reach down to touch his left arm to reassure him. He's not expecting it, so at first he flinches at the contact. He doesn't move his arm. I reach a little further until my hand is covering his fist.

He uncurls his fist, turns the palm over and I take it in mine. His palm is, as expected, a little sweaty. I wrap my fingers around his hand and he reciprocates.

I have no idea if it helps or if Bobby is just politely accepting my attempt to settle him.

Another fifteen minutes pass before Vera returns to take him to the OR. I walk with him as far as they'll allow me. Vera stops just outside the doors and says she'll be right back, leaving us alone.

I know it's time to say our goodbyes. I lean down and kiss his cheek.

"Thanks."

I grin. "Sorry, I don't have a bracelet to offer."

He smiles back.

Vera returns. "We've got to go, sugar," she says to him.

"Bye," Bobby tells me.

I give his hand a light squeeze as Vera pulls away. The forward motion finally forces our hands apart.

I continue watching until they disappear through the double doors.

_**x x x**_

**~Present~**

I stir awake and glance around at the empty waiting room area. It's dark, aside from the light streaming in from the nurse's station and the track lighting coming from the hall. I'm the only one in here.

It's almost 11:00pm. Oddly, I'm more tired than I would normally be at this hour.

Bobby had made it through surgery just fine. They had kept him here for observation for the past two days. I'd been stuck in court, or for one reason or another, I couldn't see him.

I'd been here tonight since around 9:00pm hoping to see him. Visiting hours were now over, but Nancy told me to stay, so I stayed.

I almost doze off again until I realize that Nancy has sat down beside me.

She's holding a clipboard. "Sorry, to wake you. I need to go over a few things."

A yawn escapes as I start to speak. "Bobby? Is he awake?"

She sighs. "Sorry, no. Out like a light. But he could be released as early as tomorrow or Saturday. The doctor is recommending home health care visits. Someone really just needs to be there for the first twenty-four to forty-eight hours, but it's mostly to make sure he can get help if he needs it."

She shows me a check-list of dos and don'ts, and has me initial a couple of things. "Other than that, as long as he doesn't overdo it, he should be fine to rest and recover on his own," she adds.

A home health care nurse? Bobby's not going to be thrilled with that. "What if I stayed with him?" I offer. I didn't think about it before I said it. It just slipped out.

"That would be acceptable," she replies. "And probably about the only option we'll get him to agree on," she adds with a nudge and then stands up. "You still want to see him?"

I give her a nod.

She gestures for me to follow her. We enter through a few doorways, and then walk down a long corridor that passes a large window overlooking a courtyard. It's too dark to see anything but my reflection in the glass. We round a corner and there's another long hallway. We turn about half way down that hallway and she opens the door.

It was dark in the room aside from a couple of encased wall light fixtures on the opposite wall from the head of his bed. It was enough light for the nurses to get around to assist him without bumping into anything.

There is also just enough light for me to see him. He looks very pale. There is a medication IV hooked up to his arm. A machine is monitoring his heart rate and his breathing.

It was tough seeing him like this. I sit down in the chair next to his bed and reach over to touch his hand again.

Nancy startles me as she re-enters the room. "Here, dear," she says, handing me a white blanket.

I stand up and take it from her. "What's this for?"

"I don't expect you to leave any time soon, so in case you decide to fall asleep, it can get a little chilly in here," she says.

"Thanks," I tell her. And she was right, I didn't want to leave. But I didn't think I'd have the option to stick around. Nancy doesn't walk out immediately. I remain standing while she's in there, contemplating where to move the chair so I'd be out of the way of the night staff.

She glances at a note left by one of her staff, folds it and puts it into her jacket pocket. "If you want to lay down there with him, I won't say anything," Nancy adds casually.

_She thought I was considering crawling into his bed? _I must look stunned at her assumption. I'm sure they'd expect this sort of thing from the spouse of a cancer patient, but not in our case.

"Well, Bobby might object." Might even protest.

She shakes her head. "Nah, he wouldn't. Now on the other hand, if _I_ got in there and he woke up and saw me, he'd probably go into a coma."

I smirk.

She holds her hands up in mock defense. "Sorry dear, this isn't the Hilton. Best accommodations we've got."

She leaves and I turn toward Bobby with the blanket folded over my arms. It's a decent sized hospital bed. There's enough room, I know I could fit, but I stood there debating the reasons why.

I'm tired and even a short nap would help make the drive back home a little easier.

Finally I climb in, curl up on my side with my knees close to me, and I'm facing Bobby.

I unfold the blanket, throw it over me and moments later, drift off to sleep.

**TBC…**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N… To anyone reading Turbulence… I know I left that one on a cliffhanger but it's due to update soon. Both Turbulence and Storm Front (after this chapter), are at major turning points in the story, so I figured I'd get them both caught up at once. Updates on both are expected soon.**

**This one's kind of light and fluffy…but the angst isn't over!**

**Side note: I've adjusted their ages for this story. Alex = late 30s, Bobby = mid/late 40s. **

**Thanks again for your reviews! **

* * *

_**x x x**_

"_I've got an angel  
She doesn't wear any wings  
She wears a heart that can melt my own  
She wears a smile that can make me wanna sing…"_

_ -Jack Johnson_

**Bobby's POV**

I awaken and slowly open my eyes. Breathing is a little more difficult, so I make an attempt to sit up, lifting my shoulders, neck and head slightly higher on the pillow.

There's a dull ache in my side that makes me almost regret the decision to move.

Daylight streams in through the one narrow window in the corner. It takes me a few moments to get oriented with the room, my surroundings, and to even remember why I'm here.

_And then I see her._

To the left of me on the bed, Eames lays curled up on her side facing me. Her head, part of her legs and her bare feet stick out from underneath a white blanket.

A soft, quiet snore and the steady rise and fall of her side, are proof that she's sound asleep.

If she's tired enough to fall asleep on my hospital bed, then there probably isn't much that would wake her.

Unless you put a ringing cell phone beside her. And yes, I know this from experience.

Not that I'd try to wake her up. Not just yet, anyway. She's resting peacefully and probably needs every bit of it.

Her head is a few inches from where my left hand rests at my side, and my fingers are close enough to touch the long golden strands of her hair that lay on the bed.

After watching her sleep for a little while, I'm unable to resist.

I lift just a few of the strands without disturbing her, and they feel soft and silky against the pads of my fingers.

I guess it's just my way of connecting with her, and I've needed that connection more often lately than I care to admit.

I briefly toss around a few scenarios in my mind as to what would happen if she woke up and discovered that I had been doing this. It's only for comic relief because deep down, I don't think she'd be too upset. Casual touches are more common with us lately.

If she wasn't in a good mood, I'd probably get a strange look from her, I'd move my hand away and that would be the end of it.

Of course, there'd also be some witty comment thrown at me when I least expect it.

I ponder those thoughts a little longer until I hear the door knob turn. I gaze at the opening door and in walks Mike Logan.

I casually move my hand away from her hair as he closes the door. Unlike Eames, I'd probably never hear the end of it if Logan notices.

But he has enough material to work with as it is.

He glances at her sleeping form, eyes me suspiciously and smirks.

"She was here when I woke up. Must have gotten here late," I explain in a rather hoarse voice.

"Likely story. Sorry, I've heard better," he replies, pretending not to believe me. His smile slowly fades as he changes the subject. "So how are you holding up?"

"Okay, I guess." My voice continues to sound about as bad as it feels. I didn't want to get into it and Logan seems to understand.

"I won't keep you too long. Just wanted to see how you were, and also had a few more questions about Casey Frederick."

"Greenberg case," I acknowledge with a nod. It was one that I had started, but like other cases when I became too sick to come to work, it was reassigned.

He asks a few questions about the initial interviews, and I recall what I can for him. I keep my voice just above a whisper, which makes Logan have to strain to hear me, but it's about the best I can do without having to force it too much.

We talk for another twenty minutes or so about work and life in general. Regardless of the circumstances, it's still nice to see him. I've always considered him a friend and it seems like we come from two very similar worlds.

"Guess I'll head out," Logan states when the conversation begins to wind down.

He looks over at Eames, who continues to sleep soundly, then walks over to the left side of the bed where she lies, leans down and places a chaste kiss on her temple. "Good night, Sleeping Beauty," he whispers.

He leaves and moments later, Vera walks in. "Good morning, sunshine," she greets me. Her eyes drift over to Eames and she smiles. "Oh…And I see you have your guardian angel visiting you this morning," she says softly.

I smile back, wondering how Eames would accept that characterization. Not that I'd dispute any of it. I've already decided that she's a saint just for putting up with me for all of these years.

Vera informs me that the surgery went okay and it appears that they have removed the entire tumor. Recovery from the surgery aside, I'll have follow-up visits for a while.

Vera turns to me before she leaves. "We have a staff breakfast this morning. I've got coffee and more than enough breakfast sandwiches. Would Alex be interested in either one or both?"

Like most people, I never have liked hospitals, but I'll admit that I couldn't have been placed at a nicer facility. I like that they not only look out for me, but for Eames as well. She's about as close to family as I've got, and Vera and Nancy happen to like her anyway.

I know that I heard her stomach rumble at least once this morning. "Sure. Both would be great," I reply on her behalf.

"And how does she take her coffee?"

I smirk. "How many packets of sugar can you find?"

She smiles. "Got it."

A little after Vera leaves, Eames begins to stir a bit. It starts with a soft moan, then her head lifts and her eyes open. First, she takes in her surroundings. She seems surprised to be here. Then her eyes pan over to me.

"Good morning," I greet her.

"Good morning," she responds sleepily. She lets out a yawn and I try to hide a smile as I watch her stretch and sit up on the bed. I can't help but wonder what made her decide to fall asleep in this bed, but I like that she is here.

"When did you get here?"

"Last night, at around 9:00." Her eyes drift around the room once again. For a second she looks a little embarrassed. "Nancy brought me here to see you and I thought I'd grab 30 minutes but, I guess I—" She shakes her head. "I'm sorry, Bobby, I didn't mean to surprise you."

I shrug. It wasn't a bad surprise. "Did you sleep okay?"

"Yeah, just a little stiff."

I start to feel winded and that begins a coughing spell. Fortunately, it's short-lived.

I don't talk for several minutes because it still hurts. Eames understands although her face shows concern.

Moments later, Vera pops in and hands Eames a brown paper bag and a to-go coffee cup. Eames opens the bag and pulls out a sandwich wrapped in wax paper.

"Thought you might be hungry," Vera explains.

"Yes, and thank you!"

"Let me know if you need more sugar packets for your coffee, okay?"

Eames takes a sip of the coffee and smiles. "This is perfect."

"Where's mine?" I mouth to Vera jokingly, knowing what her reply will be.

She grins. "No coffee or solid foods for you just yet, sugar."

I watch Eames eat her sandwich, and she tells me about work.

Adam and Morgan stop by to see me a little later. The visit is brief, because they're both headed to work and school, but it's nice to see them.

Adam and I had met here at the hospital. It was actually Morgan that had reached out to me and introduced us. We also attended the same group therapy session. I went one time to see what it was about and he happened to be there.

In addition, we both have had to watch a parent go through it, neither one has had a good outcome. There isn't much more that needs to be said about it, as far as we're concerned.

Early on, I admitted how easy it is to just give up. Adam says he agrees.

But then he's got Morgan depending on him.

I know I've got people supporting me, but unlike Adam, I don't have someone whose life would be affected if I don't beat this thing.

At times, it makes me wonder if it's really worth it.

_**x x**_

The days have little meaning for me lately, but I soon learn that it's Friday. I've been in this hospital since Wednesday morning.

Eames leaves for 1PP that morning, I sleep for most of the day and she returns that night to have dinner with me. By 'having dinner', I mean she eats take-out and while I pick at a rather bland dish that was prepared for me by the kitchen staff.

I am still under close watch, but they anticipate my release by Sunday.

On Sunday morning, Vera comes into my room and informs me that the doctor has some concerns about my recovery and wants to schedule home health care visits. It would be a few times a day for the next few days, and it's mainly to assist with personal care needs since I've got no one at home to help me.

I know I have some trouble getting around, but I think I would struggle less in a place that I know well, as opposed to one that I don't, even without someone's help. Not sure that I want anyone tending to my personal care needs, anyway.

That of course won't fly with the medical staff.

And then Eames offers to stay with me.

And yes, I feel a little uneasy about that idea, too. Seems like I'm taking up a lot of her time lately.

She insists, which means there isn't going to be a discussion.

But then I read her eyes, which are directed toward me, as she announces the arrangements to the doctor, two medical assistants and Vera.

_I won't hover, you'll get some space, and this will make everyone happy. _

So of course, I accept.

_**x x x**_

It's late Sunday morning when we get inside my apartment.

I lie down and rest for a few hours while Eames goes out to pick up some of her things and makes a trip to the store to get us some food.

Although I still feel weak, I am desperate for a shower. I can't get the sutures wet, but they are reasonably well protected, thanks once again to Vera.

Around mid-afternoon, I struggle into the bathroom, remove my clothes, and with the water running, I step inside the shower.

The familiarity of my own place is comforting and the water seems to revive me.

But as I take a couple of steps around the tub, I'm reminded of how weak I am. It takes me time to find a comfortable position to stand in without losing my balance, just so I can wash off. The ache in my side starts to become more pronounced just from standing up.

I am in the process of washing my arms and my chest, when I feel like I'm about to slip. I barely have time to react before I go down.

Unfortunately I land mostly outside of the tub, I'm in too much pain to move and the water is still running.

I hear Eames calling through the bathroom door. "You okay?"

"Yeah, just slipped," I reply loud enough to be heard over the water. And damn, it's embarrassing to have to say that.

"Need help?"

_Not unless you want to see me naked, Eames_, I think to myself. Not that my modesty is as pressing a matter as the pain right now, but I've got to spare my partner.

Fortunately, this disease has forced me to lose some weight and I don't think I look horrible for someone in their late 40s who has been sick for the past few months, but I doubt Eames would want this image in her head.

"I'll be okay. Just need a minute," I reply through clenched teeth. The pain is getting fierce.

"Okay."

I hear her take a few steps away from the door, then I resume trying to get up. All I have to do is lean to one side, get up on my knees and stand. Seems easy enough.

But as I attempt to get up on my knees, I feel a sharp pain in my side. Glancing down at my bandage, I notice the blood coming through the gauze and water proof wrapping.

_Dammit. _I tore the stitches.

I continue with the same plan to get up, but it's taking some time.

She calls to me about 10 minutes later, and I'm pretty sure she's heard me struggling, groaning, and cursing.

"Are you sure you don't need any help?"

"Yeah, it's just taking a little time. I tore the stitches."

"What?" I hear the heightened concern in her voice.

"Yeah, when I fell, I tore the stitches."

She's silent for a few seconds, and then I hear her try the door knob.

"Eames, wait." Unfortunately, I'm not sure she hears me.

I quickly reach up toward the towel rack and have to extend myself just a little higher to reach it.

Finally, I pull the thing down and drape it over me just as the door opens and she walks in.

Honestly, I wonder how hard she has to try not to laugh.

She doesn't laugh, of course. But again, she's a saint and an angel.

"Sorry," I tell her.

"It's okay," she replies, as she walks over and shuts off the water, getting herself nearly soaked in the process. She grabs the wash cloth I had left on the counter and presses it against the stitches. She has me take the rag and hold it in place. "Don't move. I'll be right back."

She leaves, and minutes later I think I hear her talking to someone on the phone. Shortly after that, she returns with a couple of towels from the closet. Although I'm starting to air dry with the door open, she starts toweling off the rest of me, mostly making sure that the area around the stitches stays dry.

"Nancy's on her way," she tells me. "Said she'll fix the stitches, which will save us a trip to the ER."

She stays right beside me, having me lean against her so I'm not pressed against the side of the tub. Her presence alone helps.

I ask Eames to get me some boxers to put on. She does this, then she steps out of the bathroom to give me some privacy. With some effort, I manage to pull them on.

About thirty minutes later, there's a knock at my front door. She gets up and answers it. Moments later, I hear Nancy's voice.

"So what did you do? Attempt a swan dive into the tub?" Nancy pokes lightheartedly.

"Not exactly."

It takes her about twenty minutes to dress it, fix the stitches and put on a new bandage. Then, she and Eames help me to my bed and Nancy leaves.

Eames fixes us some dinner. She makes me an omelet, which honestly tastes better than the last several omelets I've had.

She swears that there isn't much she can cook.

I don't think there's much she can't do—period.

After dinner, I'm unable to fall asleep. Can't take the pain medication just yet and I'm still rather uncomfortable.

Aside from the coughing, another issue I've had with the cancer is feeling too warm and sweating. I don't know that my body is responding any differently without the tumor, unless this is due to something else. Getting a shower does help.

It's around 11:00pm when she opens the door to my room and checks on me. "You doing okay?"

"I'm fine. Wish I had had that shower. I'd like to try again, but I don't think we can get Nancy to make a second house call tonight."

"She'd come back," Eames replies confidently. "Not that I think you should try it again, anyway."

"I can't sleep."

"Do you want your pain pills?"

"Not yet. I'm just too warm." She already knew about my symptoms and discomfort.

She becomes quiet for a second. "I've got an idea."

She turns on the light switch and my eyes squint to adjust to the brightness. She walks over to the bed and extends her hand to me. "Come with me."

I'm not sure what this is about, but of course I trust her. I swing my legs over toward the floor and she helps me up.

She walks with me into the bathroom, then stops at the door. "Got a bathing suit?"

"No. What's your idea?"

"Get in the tub with just your shorts on."

All I have on currently is my boxer shorts. "I need a little more besides this," I reply.

"So change into whatever you're comfortable in and don't mind getting wet."

I'm not one for sitting in a bathtub, plus there's getting in and out. "I don't know…"

"It's about the only suggestion I've got, unless you want to wait for the stitches to come out," she argues. She stands there for a minute thinking, then turns back toward me with a smirk. "Or we can see if Martina is free? She'd love to give you a sponge bath," she teases.

Martina is one of the medical assistants who also works as a home health aide. She's kind, but also a bit clingy and can get a little too personal when she talks to people. It makes me feel uncomfortable. Apparently, I'm one of her favorites.

Guess I didn't have much choice unless I wanted to sweat it out (literally) for the rest of the night.

"I'll give it a try."

Minutes later, I've changed into a pair of shorts and am sitting in the tub. I hadn't expected Eames to stay, but she winds up helping.

I like that she doesn't seem the least bit uncomfortable about it, although I'll admit that it's a little awkward for me.

At first, anyway.

She takes the detachable shower head down into the tub and rinses me off after I finish scrubbing each part of me that is not covered by the shorts.

After struggling to reach my back for a few minutes, she takes the wash rag and soap from my hand and washes it.

I watch her, and although I'm still in pain and very weak, I'm mostly focused on her smile, her warm brown eyes, her gentleness, her touch and the sound of her voice. She's making me miss this before it even ends.

Her long hair must have brushed against my face about a dozen times, and I don't mind it in the least. When she's close enough, I pick up the scent of her shampoo, which smells like jasmine.

She washes my hair next. Afterward, she resumes rinsing me off with the cool water because she already knows it helps.

The whole time, she's talking to me and trying to help me keep my mind off the pain.

When I'm ready, she grabs more towels and helps me dry off, she waits for me to change into something dry and then helps me to my room and into bed.

She's the last thought on my mind as I drift off to sleep.

_**x x x**_

_Months later…_

It's 5:30pm on a Thursday, I glance up from my paperwork and see Eames returning from the ladies room. Our eyes meet, she smiles and begins to collect her belongings.

She has changed into dark jeans and a very attractive top. She looks incredible, of course.

She pulls on a leather coat and lifts her hair away from her neck, so it's not tucked inside the collar, and I get a hint of her perfume.

"You look very nice."

"Thanks." She smiles.

"Headed out for the night?"

She nods.

Of course, I can't help but ask. "Big date?"

"No, just meeting the crew from the 1-6 for drinks. Hey, why don't you join us?"

I like them, but I honestly don't know how long I want to be out tonight. I feel sluggish and I'm just getting back to full days. "You go on ahead," I reply. "But tell them I said hello. I'm going to finish a little more here, and then head on home."

Eames nods that she understands, but looks rather disappointed. She manages a half smile, pushes her chair in and leaves.

About two minutes later she returns.

I glance up to meet her eyes. "What are you doing Sunday night?" she asks me.

"I'll have to check my social calendar," I reply with a smirk. We both knew it didn't exist. "Why?"

"How about dinner and a movie again?" We had done this a couple of times before the surgery, when I was too sick to come to work. It was mostly our way of touching base when we couldn't see each other every day. I think she also wanted to check up on me and make sure I was still following the diet and not smoking.

Now that I am back and the cancer hasn't been an issue, she has gotten back to her normal life and routine, which I am happy about for her own sake.

Not that I don't miss those nights. So yes, I was very excited that she had asked.

"Okay. I just ordered a few movies. Mostly classics," I reply.

"Great! You pick something out, I'll get dinner," she offers. "How about 7:00?"

"Sounds like a plan," I agree.

I like that her mood appears to lift as the plans are made. Finally, there's the smile I've been waiting for.

"Good night, Bobby."

"Good night, Eames. Have fun."

_**x x x**_

_Sunday night…_

It's a few minutes before 7:00pm and I have a slight case of nerves.

Not sure why. It's just Eames.

Of course I've been looking forward to this night ever since we made the plans.

My cell phone rings, and without glancing at the display, I'm pretty sure that it's her.

I thought I had overheard something earlier about a lane closure on the BQE, so she was probably just calling to say she's running late.

I knew that she had Nate for the weekend, but wasn't sure when she had planned to drop him off with her sister. Sounded like it would all depend on her sister's plans, which didn't leave Eames with much flexibility.

She also mentioned picking up something for dinner.

As I thought about it, I suddenly wished that I had offered to pick up dinner instead.

I check my phone, but it's not her. It's Nancy. She's calling with the results of my last x-ray.

Everything has been good, for the most part. On a recent x-ray they thought they had seen something of concern. Finally they said it was likely just scar tissue, but they ordered more x-rays to be sure.

I wait for her to retrieve my file and read the results.

I like that Nancy calls rather than one of her medical assistants. I have nothing against the assistants, of course. Nancy just gives me the straight story.

Just as she did back when she told me that I had cancer.

I listen to her as she reads the results.

She's professional, caring and supportive as usual.

Whether the news is good.

_Or in this case._

I listen to her for a few minutes longer, but then I have to go.

There's a knock at the door.

It's Eames.

And I had already made plans to enjoy this night.

_**x x x**_

_**TBC…**_


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N… Hey gang…Sorry it's been soooooo long! Life has had a few too many challenges lately, and this chapter's been particularly challenging to write. I really can't force some of this or it just doesn't sound right. **

****Slight warning about the content. Not sure if it's necessary, but just in case. **

**My goal is one chapter every week or two until it's done (same goes for Turbulence). Just a few chapters left. Enjoy!**

**Reviews make me giddy! If I could attach a visual, I would (it's quite a sight…lmao!) **

_**x x x**_

* * *

**Alex's POV**

Bobby opens the door, smiles shyly, and then steps aside to let me in.

The minute I walk in, I notice it—a feeling that either something is wrong, or there is something I'd forgotten.

But Bobby seems fine, I'm fine and I can't think of anything that would be cause for alarm, had I forgotten it.

I think about it for a minute or two longer, as I remove my jacket and set it on the back of a chair. Bobby collects the take-out bags from my hands, offers me a drink and then heads for the kitchen.

Probably has to do with work, I finally decide. Whatever it is will occur to me later tonight, most likely during the movie. We'll bounce a couple of ideas off each other and have it figured out before I leave.

It's only been a few months since the surgery, and Bobby isn't entirely off of desk duty. He has good days, where it seems like everything is back to normal, and bad days where he's weak, short of breath or just very fatigued. But it is nice to have him back just the same.

Because of the case load and life in general lately, we haven't been able to grab lunch or have drinks after work and I've really missed that. So I was glad we had arranged this date.

And sure, it isn't an actual '_date,'_ although I'd spent some time this afternoon arguing with my sister about the definition of date, where Bobby and I are concerned. I don't think a date has to imply anything—it's just dinner and a movie which, by the way is something we've done several times before.

He did put in a lot of effort to make everything look nice. His place is very clean and neat, and there are candles and a nice arrangement of flowers in a vase on the table.

And on top of that, he's picked out some background music. Anyone walking into his apartment tonight, who didn't know him better, might be suspicious. But I can see that he's carefully set this up to be a relaxing, enjoyable night, and picked out bands that he knows we both like.

He enters the living room carrying two glasses and hands me my drink. "How has your weekend been so far?"

"Pretty good," I reply.

"How's Nate?"

"He's good. We went to the zoo yesterday, and today we went all over looking for this game he's wanted since his last birthday. Still haven't found it. Brought him back to my sister's house a couple of hours ago."

Bobby nods.

"He has more energy every time I see him," I remark, as I think back on the visit. "Or maybe I'm just getting too old?" I add with a slight shrug.

He smirks like I'd just made a joke.

"Oh, but it's true," I argue. "And I'd swear he saves it up until he's out with me."

He holds my gaze, still grinning. "Yeah, but you're still not _too old_."

"Well, thanks."

"Sure."

We're quiet for a minute, and suddenly there it is again—that same unsettling feeling I had a moment ago. I dismiss it for now. "So how's your weekend going?"

"Oh, it's fine," he responds.

We discuss a couple of cases, the usual department news and gossip, and my night out with the group from the 1-6, as we finish our drinks.

When the last topic dies down a bit, I pose another question in a more serious tone. "So, how are you feeling?"

"Same as usual," he answers with a shrug, like he doesn't want to dwell on the topic for too long. He glances over his shoulder toward the kitchen, and then looks back at me. "So what's for dinner? It smells great."

"Garlic rosemary chicken with red potatoes and sautéed vegetables. I picked it up from this new restaurant on Parkside."

"Sounds delicious. I think I've got a bottle of pinot noir that'll be perfect with it. You ready to eat?"

"Sure."

I realize something else as I follow him into the kitchen and we begin dishing out the food. I don't think I've ever really gotten over the time I came here several months ago and found out about the cancer. I mean, I've been here many times since, but once in a while I'm reminded of it. I guess it still gets to me.

The food is absolutely delicious, and in fact, we don't say much during dinner because we are too busy enjoying it. I just recently discovered this place, which uses all natural ingredients and organic foods, and thought it would be great for Bobby's diet. I'm glad it turned out so well for us tonight.

We wash the dishes, and then stand in the kitchen with our glasses of wine, waiting for our dinner to settle before starting the movie.

Some nights we'll watch something else if we're not too tired, then we'll talk for another hour or so before I leave.

I step away to use the bathroom, and return to find him in the middle of a bad coughing spell. It happened a lot before, and shortly after the surgery. Seemed to be intermittent after that.

I know it's mostly the result of the damage to his lungs, but it doesn't make this any less concerning to hear.

He sees my concern and responds after the spell starts to subside a bit. "Sorry, it's just…well, you know—"

"Scar tissue," I finish for him.

"I'm fine," he responds dismissively. "Let's watch the movie."

I glare back at him unconvinced, but accept anyway. "Sure."

We retreat to the living room. Bobby kneels down in front of the TV and puts the movie into the DVD player.

As I plop down on the couch and settle back against the cushion, I suddenly feel flushed and lightheaded.

I've put away more alcohol than this before, so that definitely wasn't it.

Probably just from weeks of going non-stop on the job and elsewhere. I'll admit that my sleep habits haven't been the greatest.

This, along with a headache that keeps resurfacing, causes me to groan and reach for my head.

Bobby glances over in my direction. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," I respond.

He finishes with the DVD, walks over and sits down beside me.

I glance up and there's deep concern in his eyes as he tries to figure out what's wrong. "Your head hurts?"

"Yeah."

"Eames, you've been having these headaches all week."

Leave it to Bobby to point that out. Personally, I think he welcomes any opportunity to have the tables turned. Now he gets to worry about me.

"If it's bothering you, you should see a doctor."

"No… It's nothing like that. Probably just tired from the week."

He ignores my comment, leans closer, and touches my forehead and cheeks with the back of his hand. "Well…you are a little warm. I hope you haven't caught whatever is going around." He brushes a fallen strand of hair back from my face.

I watch as his gaze drifts from the strand of hair toward my eyes.

The weeks and months since Bobby's disclosure of the cancer have brought us closer.

It's understandable…but things are different. I don't really know what this is, to be honest.

He's so guarded sometimes, but he's got a genuineness about him that's unlike other men I've met.

Despite the conversations with my sister about my dating life, I've wondered what a relationship with Bobby might be like. We care a lot about each other.

Then again, I don't know if his feelings toward me are at all romantic. In the absence of family, I've been the one to help him while he's been sick. That's probably how he sees me.

"I've got some Ibuprophen?" he offers.

I nod to accept. He stands up and leaves the room. A short time later, he returns with the bottle of pills and some water. I pop a few and wash it down with a long sip.

Bobby takes a seat to my left, settles back with one arm on the back of the couch and starts the DVD.

I relax a bit and tune in to the movie. It's an action/adventure from a few years back that got great reviews, but neither of us got around to seeing it.

But as I tend to do when something's weighing on my mind, my thoughts start to drift.

I'm due in court in the morning, and while I don't like what I already know the defense will throw at us, I trust Carver to carry this one. I worked this particular case with Logan, rather than with my partner, and we'll both have to take the stand.

But I know that court tomorrow is nothing out of the ordinary.

Something else is bothering me, and I just can't decide what it is.

I focus in and out on the movie.

_My family is fine, the job is fine, and Bobby and I are fine…_

Suddenly, his cell phone rings from over on the kitchen counter and Bobby stands up to answer it.

There's very little dialogue from Bobby, and whatever he says is hard to hear with the movie playing. He's pacing, talking fast and seems a little nervous.

I turn my attention back to the movie so it doesn't seem like I'm focusing in on his conversation.

Finally he ends the call, puts the phone down on the counter and rubs his eyes.

He doesn't return to the living room right away, but instead folds his arms and leans against the counter. I click pause on the DVD remote and wander toward the kitchen. "Everything okay?"

Bobby nods quietly, and then busies himself with pouring another glass of wine. He sets it on the counter and then offers me another glass. I decline.

"If you don't mind me asking, who was that?"

Leaning against the counter, he takes a sip of the wine and lowers the glass. "Nancy," he responds, without looking away from the wine.

It's unlikely she'd call him on a Sunday night for no reason. I wait for him to explain further.

He hesitates, biting his lower lip before he replies. "My x-rays… They…umm…think they see another mass." His eyes glance up nervously at me for just a second before he looks away.

"Okay," I respond, feeling the familiar pang in the pit of my stomach. "What else did she say? Is it in the same spot?"

Bobby sets the glass down and shakes his head. I can tell he's working on his words. "It's—it's umm… it's taken them a few hours to look at it. Y-you know how those doctors are…" he answers nervously.

_He's upset. He doesn't want to tell me._

I take a step closer. "Bobby…?"

Dead silence.

"What did—?"

"It's…my liver." It's uttered so quietly that I almost miss it.

I hesitate just long enough to try and bury the emotions.

The room falls silent, aside from the clock ticking on the wall. It's somewhere around 100 ticks until he glances toward me again.

"Okay…" I reply, trying to keep calm despite the fact that I'm starting to shake. "They can't be sure it's a tumor _yet_…right? Don't they have to do a biopsy or run more tests?"

"Right…more tests," he replies with a frustrated sigh.

"Have they scheduled an appointment?"

He shifts his position again. "They're setting it up."

"Okay." I glance toward the floor allowing my thoughts to drift.

_They're mistaken… They thought they saw something, but were wrong… Anything but this._

I feel his gaze on me, but don't bother looking up.

"Eames…" he begins softly. He already knows I'm upset. He takes a step closer; his hands grasp both of my shoulders. "Eames, please—"

His cell phone rings again. Bobby huffs, shaking his head in frustration as he snatches the phone from the counter and answers it.

I overhear most of the conversation this time. It's Annette, one of the medical assistants, confirming an appointment for tomorrow after work. He listens politely to her routine instructions, although I sense he's heard it enough times and really isn't in the mood.

He ends the call and the phone is tossed back on the counter.

"Come on," he says, directing me with a hand on my shoulder. "Let's forget this for now and watch the rest of the movie."

I feel like I need to talk, but instead, I nod and allow him to guide us back to the couch. We resume our places; he rewinds the DVD to cover what we missed.

A few minutes into this, I just can't focus anymore.

Of course they told us there'd be a risk of the cancer returning or spreading. I just didn't want to accept it.

My chest begins to tighten and the lump in my throat grows. As usual, Bobby is already in tune with my thoughts. His hand drifts from the back of the couch to my shoulder, and he begins to rub my shoulders and neck. I stare ahead at the movie but I can feel him watching me out of the corner of his eye.

Whether due to fatigue, the Ibuprophen I took, or the gentle massage Bobby is giving me, I begin to relax. My surroundings start to fade out. The warmth and comfort from the couch and from Bobby's side inevitably lull me to sleep.

I don't even realize that I'd fallen asleep until I hear Bobby clear his throat.

My eye lids open, feeling dry and still a little heavy.

By now, the movie's over and he's since tuned in to some black and white movie that I recognize but can't recall the title of.

I lift my head from his shoulder, turn and our eyes meet.

On any other given night, there'd be subtle teasing. Maybe a comment or two made about my snoring.

There's a hint of a smile in his eyes, but that's about all.

"Sorry," I respond, knowing that because of me, he's not moved from that spot for the past two and a half hours. His arm remains around me.

"Don't be," he responds softly. His expression shows concern. "You okay?"

"Yeah. I…uh…guess I should get going."

"Okay. Would you like some coffee before you go?"

"Sure."

He gives my shoulder a squeeze, then gets up and heads for the kitchen.

I stand up and follow him, hanging just a few feet away from where he rinses out the coffee pot and then begins to fill it.

Silence hangs over us like an ominous cloud. I don't have to guess where his thoughts are, and he doesn't have to look over at me to figure out where mine are.

_Why did this have to happen? Why can't this man ever catch a break?_

I suddenly decide to skip the coffee. With the way my stomach is churning, I'm likely to throw it up in an hour or less.

I just need to get out of there and go home. I'm angry, scared and about on the verge of tears. I turn and start for my jacket, muttering in broken speech to Bobby that I'm okay to drive home.

The kitchen faucet shuts off, and then I hear Bobby's quick footsteps behind me.

"Eames, wait! Don't…," his voice trails off. He catches up to me, and I feel his hand on my shoulder just as I have the jacket in my arms.

I want to tell him not to worry, but I can't even speak. He wraps both arms around me from behind, and hugs me tightly.

The tears start immediately. My jacket slips from my grasp onto the floor.

He turns me around and guides me toward him. I tuck my arms under his, wrapping them around his back as I sink against his solid frame.

I'm a little embarrassed by this. Not for being upset—it's just a flood of emotions that he probably doesn't need on top of everything else. Plus, I never meant to turn the focus onto me. Nonetheless, without him I don't know if I'd be standing up right now. "I'm sorry…Bobby," I reply after the tears have subsided a little bit.

"Shhhh…." He presses a kiss to my forehead, while his hand gently strokes my back. "It'll be okay. Maybe they caught it early." I realize he's probably just saying that for my benefit.

I release him, wipe a few tears away and take a step back so I can see his eyes when I ask my next question. "How do you feel about it?"

He sighs heavily, and avoids eye contact. "They haven't been wrong yet," he answers grimly. "Listen…Eames," he begins in another breath. He hesitates a little longer and I sense that he's selecting his words again. "I've put you through a lot over the past year…"

"It's okay."

"No…it _isn't_." He takes a deep breath. "Look, I think…_you know_…it's time…," his voice trails off.

"It's time?"

"Yeah. You should talk to Deakins…tomorrow, or at least this week. Put in a request for a new partn—"

"No."

"Eames, please—"

"Is this really what you want?"

He answers my question by glancing away. "Look, just… I haven't been myself in months." He hesitates a second longer before he looks at me again.

"We've discussed this. As long as the doc clears you, you're fine."

"Right. And what about now? What are you going to do when he doesn't…?"

"You go on short-term disability." I guess I couldn't see it beyond that. Or maybe I didn't want to.

"What about you, Eames? How is this fair to you?"

"We still work well together."

"Yeah, but this is hardly a partnership. Most of the time I'm riding desk. They're going to stick me in another department."

I don't respond.

"I'm not carrying my weight anymore."

"That's not true!"

"Yes it is. And even when I'm there…things go wrong. I mean, it's because of me that day that we l-lost Charleston's confe—"

"That wasn't your fault!" I interrupt. I can't believe he's still blaming himself for that.

"It was! Carver didn't have to make the deal and—"

"Just stop," I interrupt. Really didn't like this conversation we are having now.

But he goes on and on about the case. Citing example after example. I have to look away as he's talking. I clench my teeth, suck in a breath and try to fight the emotion from spilling out.

"You know it's going to happen eventually. And when they find out about this—"

"Bobby, stop!"

He finally pauses mid-statement after I've raised my voice.

"_You're_ my partner! I don't want another damn partner!"

He lowers his head and gives a slight nod. I wait for him to look at me again before I address him further.

I take a deep breath and despite the fact that my voice is broken, I force the words out. "I know… that we might have to have this conversation at some point, but I can't do this right now!"

"Eames…?"

"You're going to be fine! Right or wrong, I need to believe that," I spout tearfully.

He gazes at me for the longest time, without saying a word. Never looks away.

"Bobby…?"

His expression gradually softens. In his eyes there's relief, there's gratitude.

There's affection.

He tilts his head slightly to the right and his already dark eyes seem to darken further.

"Bobby, what's—"

Without a word, he closes the distance between us. His fingertips brush the side of my cheek. He leans closer; I close my eyes and feel his warm breaths just before his lips press gently to mine.

The kiss is soft, subtle. And it ends just a little too early.

When we separate, our eyes meet. There's a brief moment of uncertainty and hesitation, but, I let those thoughts go as I reach for his hand. A smile returns to his eyes.

When we step closer, there seems to be an understanding. An acceptance. I reach for his shoulders, he draws me nearer.

The kiss begins slowly, but gradually becomes less inhibited. There are feelings that I don't think either of us anticipated. He deepens the kiss, I hold him closer and an incredible jolt reaches my heart, spreading completely through me.

I won't lie… As much as some of this hurts, I'm clinging to it. Maybe there's a part of me that believes loving Bobby takes away some of the pain.

We end breathlessly, he pulls me into an embrace and time seems to slip away.

Around the time I'm starting to phase everything out and fatigue is setting in, he speaks up. "It's getting late."

A well-timed yawn escapes as I try to speak. "It's late?"

He smirks a little at my response. "Yes it is."

I settle back a little without releasing him. "Am I keeping you?"

"Oh… I—I was just—I'm not…kicking you out…," he stammers nervously. "I—I…"

"It's okay," I tell him with a grin. "Do you need to be alone? I can go."

"No! No, that's not it…I…"

I wait through a long pause. "Just tell me." I try to show him with my eyes that it's okay. Whatever he needs doesn't affect us, or anything happening between us.

He relaxes, smiling back at me adoringly—which I like, but this is still going to take some getting used to_._ "Nothing… I'm fine."

"You sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure."

It turns into another 20 minutes. We hug, nuzzle, and exchange affectionate glances between slow intimate kisses or brief playful ones.

"It's late," he announces again.

"Yeah, we already discussed this," I tease him playfully.

"So why don't you stay here and leave in the morning?"

"Would you like me to stay?" I counter.

He nods.

If it's a bad idea, I'm already in trouble, because gazing at this warm, sweet, affectionate soul, I'm not finding a good enough reason to refuse.

"Okay."

Bobby releases me, goes to secure the door and turn out the remaining lights in the living room and kitchen. Then he returns and guides us toward his bedroom.

Once we're inside, he walks to his dresser, opens one of the drawers, and sifts through a few shirts before retrieving a plain gray shirt. He hands it to me. "Here… It's a little big, but it should work."

"Thanks."

"I should have an extra toothbrush," he says and motions for me to follow him. He retrieves a wrapped toothbrush from the hall closet and then leaves me alone to change in the bathroom.

I finish, Bobby changes into a pair of cotton shorts and brushes his teeth, and then we get into bed.

"Have you noticed any new symptoms?" I ask him after we've settled in. I'm nestled against his side, his arm is wrapped around me and he's caressing my back.

He's quiet as he considers my question. "No, nothing I haven't seen before, which you already know—changes to appetite, fatigue, weight loss. Mostly just my usual problems with coughing and shortness of breath."

I nod.

"Used to think it was improving after the surgery. Now, I'm not so sure," he adds.

"What did they find that made them think it was your liver?"

"There's an area under my ribs that is swollen…which…suggests an enlarged liver."

I slide my left hand from his shoulder to his chest.

His hand slides over mine. "I'm lucky to have you, you know," he says softly. Our eyes meet and he draws me closer for a kiss. There's the slightest touch of his tongue against my lips, and with a breath, he draws me in.

I lift my head and upper body up from the pillow to get closer to him. His arm slips around me, then quickly shifts me over onto my back. He hovers over me; I wrap my arms around his neck and hold on so I can continue kissing him.

His kisses are light and seductive. He slips his hand under the gray shirt, making his way up my leg to the bare extent of my chest and stomach. His hand doesn't seems to favor any one particular area. He comments on how smooth and soft my skin is.

The gray shirt is soon lifted up and over my head, and discarded to the side, followed by my panties. He maintains our positions so I'm still only able to wrap my arms around his neck and hold on.

He's taking control, and my only excuse for not taking it back is weakness and curiosity. The man knows human behavior so intricately, knows every part of the human anatomy by scientific name and location, and knows exactly how to elicit any response he wants from anyone.

This is the only explanation as to why I can relinquish control, even though I'm already aching for him. He's slowly, patiently exploring my upper body with just his finger tips and the palm of his hand.

Even a little later, after he's removed the last of his clothing, the teasing hasn't ceased. Judging from his quiet chuckles and occasional grins, he's thoroughly enjoying this.

I finally have to ignore my urges to start countering his moves. We wrestle under the covers; sheets and blankets are twisted and tangled around us, before they're shoved to the foot of the bed.

I'd be lying if I said I'm not enjoying this.

Because in my heart, I know I've met my match.

When I least expect it, he finally slips himself inside of me.

Once I'm over the initial jolt and convinced that he's not about to send me over the edge right then and there, he turns and positions us so that I'm on top.

My eyes connect with his; I rise up and slide down over him slowly.

With his teasing and caressing alone, I thought this would be over quick. It's not. And in fact, it's another incredible build up that has my insides begging for release.

But I soon realize that while my body's on edge, my mind is still struggling with Bobby's news from earlier.

"You don't have to be gentle," he says, his eyes letting me know that he understands where my head is right now.

So I follow Bobby's silent suggestion and start putting all of that into every thrust; all of the fear, anger, frustration and heartache. Tears are shed without thought or warning, but I don't let up.

At some point, Bobby grabs my hips and starts meeting my thrusts. It's another couple minutes of sheer intensity while we both quicken the pace.

I hug him tightly to me as my body starts to tremble. The pulsing begins slowly and then deepens, spreading over me until I'm euphoric, dizzy and can no longer support my weight. I collapse on top of him.

Bobby turns us over and continues to thrust. His body tenses, and I already love the pleasurable sounds he's starting to make, so exhausted or not, I start meeting his thrusts. His moans gradually get a little louder until his body starts to shake through his release.

When he finishes, he rolls us back so we're mostly on our side, and hugs my body to his.

One glance at each other and we're drawn into another kiss.

"We'd better"…" stop soon,"… he remarks after a while. I kiss him as he tries to speak.

"Yeah," I reply, but continue kissing him anyway.

"You've got court tomorrow." …

"Right"…"court."…

He stops me, sits up and glances at the clock. "Four hours, Eames"…"you need your sleep." He lays back down.

"Mmm-hmm"…

"You're not helping"…

"I never agreed to do that." …

He pulls back from me grinning. "Eames!" He gives me another quick peck. "But I want you to sleep."

"Okay. Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

We kiss once more and I settle into his arms. He lightly caresses my shoulders and back. This, along with the warmth and the gentle rise and fall of his chest, soothes me into a light sleep.

Just before I completely doze off, he kisses me and whispers, "You're an angel."

_**x x**_

I awaken out of a deep sleep suddenly and sit up.

The first thing I notice is that I'm alone.

"Bobby?"

I wait, but there's no response.

"Bobby?" I attempt a little louder.

Then suddenly, I hear it…

_Another bad coughing spell. _

I can't tell if he's got it under control, but I know these spells can be pretty harsh at night.

I get out of bed quickly and feel around until I find the gray shirt that Bobby gave me to wear earlier. I throw that on and leave his room.

The hallway is dark. The first thing I notice is the light shining through the space under the bathroom door.

I move quickly toward it, but hesitate outside the door. "Bobby?"

No response. The coughing continues.

I push the door open and walk inside.

My heart breaks.

"I'm…okay," he tries to tell me between gasps.

He's hunkered down on the floor, hovering over the bowl with just his shorts on. He's cold, shivering.

I rush to his side, grabbing a towel from the rack to wrap around him.

"No you're not, Sweetie," I respond, as I glance down at the bowl that shows traces of phlegm and blood. "We're going to the hospital."

_**x x x**_

_**TBC…**_


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N… Thanks for the awesome reviews! They are definitely inspiring! I know this story gets difficult at times, but as much as possible, I'm trying to write from the heart (assuming that always leads us to the right place.) **

**I know I'm fast-forwarding a bit, but it'll be explained. Quick reminders… Adam is the friend of Bobby's with cancer, and Morgan is Adam's daughter.**

**Enjoy! **

**PS…Anyone reading Turbulence, that one should update today or tomorrow.**

* * *

**x x x**

**Alex's POV**

_**~About 6 weeks later~**_

For the past several months, life's been a perpetual rollercoaster.

As usual, work consumes most of my time and energy.

I have six critical cases on my desk; three of which we don't have enough evidence for the DA's office. And of those cases, two are creating a lot of heat between this department, the media and the brass. Two more of my cases are about to go to trial.

Bobby and I have had our own rollercoaster of highs and lows. I keep wanting to believe that the bad days are behind us.

I barely sleep these days, but I'm still going.

_**x**_

I gaze across our desks at the empty yellow desk chair; the back of it is swiveled slightly to the right.

Sometimes when I see it empty, I'll pretend that he just went out for a minute to get coffee or made a quick stop at the ME's office... Guess it makes this adjustment easier.

Bobby's supposed to be on leave, but he's never been happy sitting idle with nothing to stimulate his brain.

He'll come in for a few hours a week and ride desk. He'll track something down for us, or observe in an interrogation. His profiling skills are undoubtedly one of the department's greatest strengths.

While I agree with the doctors about his need for recovery over work, I can't help but worry about what it might do to him if he couldn't come in at all.

My _temporary_ partner is Detective Jake Reston, from the 36th homicide. He's nice and we get along really well. I think he'd be a good fit for Major Case, but he has his heart set on taking the captain's exam and moving into narcotics once his stint here is over.

_**x**_

It's almost noon, and Mike, Carolyn and I are checking over shipment manifests. Jake is out picking up lunch.

Our victim—Port Authority customs agent Zach Collingsworth—was murdered over an illegal shipment of assault rifles. Looks like he had a hand in organizing it. The Feds, as usual, aren't playing nice.

Right now, our best lead may come from tracking down a couple of the container trucks, where the parts might have been smuggled out.

"Lunch time," Jake announces, as he enters the bullpen. He heads over to Mike's and Carolyn's desks with lunch bags in both hands. "Tuna," he says, removing a wrapped sub from the bag and handing it to Carolyn. Then he passes Mike his wrapped sub. "Cold cuts."

"Thanks," they each tell him.

"Sure."

Next, he walks over to my desk and sets a sandwich in front of me. "Egg salad on whole wheat..." He retrieves a bottle of Snapple and sets it down as well. "And an iced tea."

I glance up from the manifests. "I told you not to get me anything."

"Yes, and I ignored you," he replies smugly.

He's a bit unnerving at times, but still a good guy.

"Well, I hope you're hungry," I argue, handing the sandwich back to him.

"You're not skipping lunch again, Alex," he replies, refusing to accept it. "Just eat it and shut up," he tosses back lightly. He wanders toward his desk, which is a few feet behind Goren's desk.

"You're a real pain in the ass," I reply.

"Guilty… But if you pass out on my watch, Goren will kill me."

He removes his own sandwich, sets it down on his desk, and the scent of it wafts over in my direction.

"Hey…I smell steak and peppers, Jake…I'm telling your wife," I fire back smartly.

He shoots me a glare, then plops down in his seat.

"She said you're supposed to be on a healthier diet," I remind him.

He ignores me and starts unwrapping his sub. "Anything new on those shipping manifests?"

I shake my head.

I eye the sandwich Jake bought for me for a few seconds, then I remove the wax paper and take a bite. Despite not having much of an appetite, it's a good sandwich. I look up to find Jake watching me eat.

"Thanks."

"Anytime." He grins.

I glance at the calendar and an idea surfaces. "Hey guys, I think we should check the Holland Tunnel tapes."

"Why's that?" Mike asks.

"Call it a hunch," I respond, eyeing the two manifests that I'd set aside. "Let's look at the 13th….and the…30th between 8am and noon. Both of these were signed for by Collingsworth, so we can assume it bypassed the check point."

Carolyn nods. "Got it." She picks up her phone to call Port Authority.

I gaze back tired-eyed at the calendar, allowing my thoughts to drift at random for a couple of minutes while I finish the sandwich.

Suddenly, _another_ realization hits… But this one isn't about work…it's _personal_.

Panic sets in immediately, but it's nothing that I can deal with right then. I try to shove the thought out of my mind for the time being.

A little later, my hunch about the tapes pays off. We track down the truck driver and he leads us to the perp.

After the arrest, the four of us wander out into the bullpen. I turn to them. "I need to head home for a little bit."

Carolyn waves me on. "Go ahead, we're covered."

Mike and Jake each nod their agreement.

"Thanks. I'll be back in about an hour."

_**x**_

I make one stop at the store before heading to my apartment.

I've been staying with Bobby for the past few weeks, but still have most of my things here.

I grab my mail on the way to the front door. I walk in and see the basket of clothes and things that I didn't collect on the last trip. I leave the store bag on the table, and move the basket toward the door, setting the mail on top so I remember to take them with me.

There are two messages on the voicemail, but nothing important. I delete both and stroll hesitantly back toward the store bag.

Releasing a sigh, I open it and deposit its contents on the table.

The calendar on my desk had given me another kind of reminder...

_I'm late. _

And not just a little… It's been over 3 weeks.

I'd been on the pill for a long time. With the talk of cancer risks over the past year, and my dating life pretty much at a standstill, I just stopped taking it. I figured I'd switch to another method if things changed.

Only out of habit that night, I assumed I was already covered. So Bobby and I had had unprotected sex.

There was a lot on our minds that night. While this still shouldn't have happened, with Bobby being sick, the chances of me getting pregnant are—from what I understand—rather slim.

Later that same night, Bobby went to the hospital, and the next day he was admitted for surgery. They removed a small part of his liver, then started him on chemotherapy. He was released from the hospital and resumed regular outpatient visits for his treatment.

He had finished those treatments less than 2 weeks ago, and now they're giving him a few weeks of rest from the side effects. They'll continue monitoring and will resume treatment if needed.

He's really had a difficult time with those side effects. His worst symptoms seem to be nausea, weakness, and poor appetite. Since the surgery he has complained of body aches and skin irritations at night.

It's been hard for him to stay optimistic.

To make matters worse, Adam's daughter Morgan was just admitted to the hospital. It looks like the leukemia is making a comeback.

Bobby has been going to visit her. They're monitoring her white blood cell count, but it's not looking too good. Between Morgan and Adam's father—who is barely hanging on with a progressive brain tumor—Adam hasn't been around much.

So depression is really setting in for Bobby. I try to give him room, but I don't let up on the things he needs for recovery. At times, that becomes the source of our arguments and I think he resents me for it.

He tries to push me away sometimes. We've been fighting a little more often since his recent release from the hospital.

I think if it were anyone else, I might have left. We still make up eventually, but it's taking its toll on us.

For obvious reasons, other than one or two occasions recently, physical intimacy has been difficult. It's understandable, although he's not taking that too well. There's more to our relationship than sex, but in light of the fighting lately, the lack of intimacy just adds more tension.

We don't have much alone time to begin with, so we try to make the most of what we can get.

After work, we'll just sit on the couch and he'll listen to me talk about a case, a suspect or whatever else is on my mind. As usual, I can count on his perspective to clear things up or give me a new direction. I'll admit that I'll use this to distract him from the difficulties he's been dealing with lately.

Other nights, I'll come home and we'll both be tired and short-tempered. Something will inevitably erupt and I'll storm out. When I return, he's already in bed.

During his treatments, whenever the nausea hits, he'll get up in the middle of the night and head for the bathroom. He spends most of the night laying on the floor or leaning against the outside of the bathtub. I think it's partially because he's too uncomfortable to move, and partially because he doesn't want to wake me up by returning to the room.

I've started leaving a pillow and comforter in a chair in the bedroom. When I wake up and discover he's not in bed, I'll take those items into the bathroom, along with a clean shirt and a wash cloth.

Bobby really struggles when he's throwing up, so I'll dampen the wash cloth and clean his face and chest, then put a clean shirt on him. Fortunately, he's too tired and too weak to argue. He doesn't come back to bed, and I never want to leave him there, so I'll lay down beside him with the comforter around us.

This is normally when he'll turn over, pull me close to him and offer a teary-eyed, heart-felt apology. This, of course, about kills me. I love him so much, but I really don't know how to give him what he needs.

_**x**_

_**~ Past (about 1 week ago) ~**_

It was a Friday night, and the fight had been particularly bad. In fact, when I stormed out, instead of going back there later, I went to my own apartment and cried myself to sleep.

I didn't return until late Sunday afternoon, after having spent most of the weekend with my sister and my nephew.

I unlock the door to Bobby's apartment and walk in slowly. I know he's home, but he's not in the living room or kitchen. I approach the bedroom door and find him laying in bed reading. He glances up from his book.

The anger has long since gone. Just the sight of him makes me think about how many ways I could lose him. "I just…wanted to see how you were," I explain. I feel the tears coming on.

"Eames…" he sets the book down on the night stand and gestures for me to come closer.

I follow his motioning hand until I'm led into the bed beside him. He reaches for my arm and pulls me into his lap.

He takes my hand in his, threads our fingers together and I snuggle close to him. He kisses the side of my head. "I'm so sorry, Alex."

"I'm sorry too..."

"I've said and done some dumb things..."

I sniffle and wipe some tears away. "We both have made some mistakes. We knew this wasn't going to be easy."

There's a long pause, as he glances down at the bed briefly, and then his eyes drift back up to mine soberly. "So why haven't you left me _permanently_?"

"Well… Because I love you."

Bobby smiles, then lowers his head for a minute so I can't see that my words have affected him. He looks up at me adoringly, still smiling, "And people say _I'm_ crazy?"

We begin a slow, heated kiss. I rise up on my knees and straddle his lap. The kiss intensifies.

After a while he deliberately stops us. We try to catch our breath. Resting his forehead against mine, he releases a heavy sigh.

I already know what he's thinking. "Bobby, i-it's okay…I wasn't—"

He takes a deep breath, and then—pushing our typical reasons to halt intimacy aside—he interrupts me with another kiss. He begins unbuttoning my shirt and then reaches around to remove my bra. Both garments are tossed onto the bed.

I take off his shirt, but he stops me from removing his pants. Meanwhile, he manages to get me out of the rest of my clothing.

He lays us down on the bed on our sides, and turns me around so I'm no longer facing him, and leaning against his chest. I can't decide what he's planning, but he's very deliberate about it. He wraps one arm around me securely. I turn my head to the right and we resume the kiss.

He slowly begins caressing me with his hands and his finger tips until I'm completely aroused, and eventually slips his fingers inside of me. He gradually, lovingly builds me toward an incredible release.

Afterward, he holds my trembling, gasping body close and pulls part of the blanket over me. We lay there contently for several minutes. Finally, I turn and our eyes meet.

He smiles. "It won't be too much longer…"

"Good, because I need a way to get back at you for _this_," I remark playfully.

He smiles. "Funny, because I was just thinking that I need to do _this_ after every fight."

"How is that fair?"

"What do you mean? Aren't I usually the one at fault in our fights?"

"No, Bobby, it's both of us. And besides…" I gaze at him suggestively, "right now, I have no way to umm…_reciprocate_."

"Wait…you think that _I'm_ not enjoying this too?"

"Yes, you enjoy teasing me."

"Alex..." he shakes his head. "You mean you didn't…_notice_?"

"Notice _what_?"

He raises an eyebrow suggestively. And there's that knowing sparkle in his eyes that I love.

"Okay, genius…I'll bite. What's this about?"

"Physical stimulation… It's enough for me."

I smile. "Enough..._how_?"

"Just from…uh…focusing on you… on your breathing…your pulse…" he kisses me between words. "The way your skin flushes when you're turned on… The way your muscles relax…," he touches my thigh, "and tense…and what it's doing to you…_inside_. So I know when you're not quite there yet…and when you're…_very close_…"

His voice is low and nearly a whisper. His words, labored breaths and seductive tone are having as much of an effect as anything else he might do to me.

"And Alex…my body might not be worth a damn right now, but believe me…when you came…every part of me…_felt it_."

_Damn, he's good..._

Bobby continues. "So trust me. This _is_ as much fun for me as it is for you. I mean…I'm glad that I have _this kind of effect on you…_" He glances down suggestively.

Then the smile fades slightly. "One other thing. You know I profile people all the time. So you'd never actually have to say a word to me about how you feel. Because you couldn't fake, nor could you hide…," his eyes drift all over my face, "_these_ _kinds_ of feelings… Why do you think I'd need anything more than this?"

_**x x**_

_**~Present~**_

I glance down at the two identical boxes on the table. I've been through this before, so I tend to plan ahead.

I take the test and wait the allotted time. It's one of those tests that's supposed to give one line if you're _not_ pregnant, and then a second line if you _are_.

There's a faint dash that may or may not be a second line. After studying it for a bit too long, I decide to throw it out and try the second. That one barely reads. Can't even see the line to show the test recorded anything. I toss that one away in disgust, grab my things and head back to work.

_**x**_

Two days later, and there's no change. I'm still late.

After wrapping up the paperwork on a case, I take a late lunch and head over to see Dr. Susan James.

Dr. James has been my OBGYN since just before my pregnancy with Nathan.

She once told me that she was planning to relocate to Buffalo. I said that I'd hate to have to drive that far for an appointment, but I probably would. She's kind, highly reputable and easily one of the best doctors I've ever had.

For some reason, I don't think I'm pregnant, but I'm still late. So something's definitely wrong. Or at least, I'm going to worry about it until I confirm everything's okay.

I walk through the door to her office suite and there's no one at the front desk. I turn and suddenly notice Dr. James sitting in one of the waiting room chairs.

She's dressed in business casual. No lab coat or stethoscope. If I didn't already know her, I would have mistaken her for a patient.

She's glancing through a magazine, and looks in my direction when I walk into the waiting room.

"Hi, Doctor."

"Oh… Hey sweetie, how are you?" she greets me warmly, setting the magazine down. "Do you need to schedule your annual exam?" She stands up and walks over to the front desk. "My receptionist is out picking up lunch. When did you want to come in?"

"It's already scheduled in about six or eight weeks, but this can't wait. I've got another concern," I reply.

Her smile fades. "Everything okay?"

"Well… No."

She nods. "My next appointment just cancelled. Do you have time right now?"

I nod. No sense in putting this off any longer. She opens the door to the patient rooms and escorts me to a room in the back.

"So what's been going on?" she asks after closing the door.

"I'm late," I inform her immediately.

"Do you think you might be pregnant?"

"Well… I took two tests, both a little inconclusive. No…I-I really don't think I am."

"Are you sexually active?"

"That's the thing… There hasn't been anyone for a long time. Until just recently…_but_..."

Interestingly, Dr. James has already met Bobby. He met me here once or twice after an appointment when I was pregnant with Nate. He also came by the hospital just after he was born.

I realize she's still waiting for an answer. I didn't know where to begin. I've told no one about Bobby and me. She didn't need to know the details, just the headlines (so to speak). But it's been an emotional rollercoaster to put it mildly, so I knew the words would be hard to say.

"Alex..?"

My throat tightens and the tears start. "I'm sorry," I tell her, feeling guilty about my inability to speak all of a sudden.

"It's okay…it's okay. Have you had a chance to talk to anyone about this?"

"No… I haven't. I can't…"

"Sweetie, as long as it's nothing that needs to be reported to the authorities—which, you of all people would know—then it doesn't leave this room."

I sniffle. Dr. James reaches for a box of tissues sitting on the counter and offers it to me.

I remove one and blow my nose. "It's nothing like that. It's…um… It's Bobby."

"Bobby…?" She thinks for a second. She might not know his name off the top of her head.

"My partner—he's got cancer," I explain. The tears resume.

She nods. "I'm so sorry," she responds sympathetically. Her hand reaches for my shoulder.

"It's just… It's been so difficult."

The look on her face suddenly shows that she's made the appropriate connection about our relationship. Probably written all over my face by now as well. "I see," she responds.

"Right. The point is…we had unprotected sex. I'd been on the pill, but I stopped several months ago. There's been no one in a long time. Then we got close. He doesn't have any family or anyone to help him through this. Just me. Bobby's been dealing with this cancer for almost a year. I decided to start looking out for any cancer risks myself."

She nods. "I'm happy to hear that."

"One night, there was some bad news about his condition… I guess out of habit, I just forgot about not having a backup plan."

"Has he been on radiation or chemotherapy for it?"

"He started chemo treatment…but that was after the fact. Normally, I'd never make this assumption…but I didn't think there was much chance of me getting pregnant."

"You're right. Low sperm count is common and a resulting pregnancy would be rare…_but_…it's not impossible. Still, there are lots of reasons you might be late. I mean… I can see you've been under some stress, which might be causing this. Might be an illness too. Let's run some tests and rule a few things out."

She gives me a cup for a urine sample and a disposable gown. I take care of the first part, then undress and put on the gown. Next, I get on the examining table.

A few minutes later Dr. James and her assistant Meg, return to do the exam.

She finishes and tells me to get dressed, then walks out. A little later, Meg returns and knocks on the door. I'm already dressed aside from my boots, so I tell her it's okay to enter.

She picks up the various supplies they used for the exam and then starts to leave as I'm putting on my boots.

"Did she say anything about the test results?" I ask her.

"Your lab work should be two days," Meg answers automatically.

"What about the pregnancy test?"

She shrugs. "Must be negative, otherwise she'd be back in here to tell you herself."

That makes me a little relieved, but at the same time, I'm wondering why I'm so late.

I get my things and wander toward the front counter. Meg has me fill out the paperwork they normally have us do before hand. When I finish, I give the papers back to her. She smiles. "Thanks. We'll call you when we have the results."

I start to leave when I hear my name called.

Dr. James steps up behind the desk. "Oh… Alex, do you have another minute?"

"Sure," I reply. She gestures for me to follow her to her office. She closes the door behind us. "What's up?"

She hands me two business cards. "Here are two therapists that I highly recommend."

"It's okay—"

She holds up the other hand to interject. "I know you probably won't go through with it. You've got a lot weighing on your shoulders. You're taking care of Bobby…but it doesn't sound like you're taking care of Alex. If stress gets out of control, it'll compromise your health. Obviously the department psychologist wouldn't be at the top of your list." She hands me the cards. "I won't force you, but I'd rather you have the best if you need it."

I smile and accept the cards, placing them in my pocket. "Thanks."

She gives my arm a light pat. "Anytime." I turn to leave just as she speaks again. "Just one other thing... While I agree with you that this is unusual under the circumstances, I've run the test a few times just to be sure, and there's no doubt… You're…definitely pregnant."

_**x x x**_

_**TBC…**_

* * *

**A/N… Yeah, I know…I know… You may yell at me in the reviews, throw cyber things, etc. I promise there's a method to my madness. There's a bigger picture coming together here, which I think you'll start to see in the next two chapters. **

**Next chapter in about a week or two (still trying to stay true to my word about updates). I've got to leave town for a few days and there won't be much time to write. I promise to reply if you review!**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N… Thank you all again for your wonderful reviews! REALLY SORRY for the delay. Your reviews really make my day and I'm eager to write. I know exactly where this story is going, but the dialogue sometimes doesn't fit. I'll admit that I'm my own worst reviewer. I couldn't make one section work (to my liking) until just recently. If it's any consolation, this is the longest chapter yet. **

**Quick reminder that this takes place around season 5, but it assumes the events up to Frame have already happened.**

**To my reviewer 'Sell'… Since I can't reply to your review personally, I wanted to comment to you (and anyone else wondering) about the hair loss. I had kept that part subtle in the last chapter, but it will be brought up here. The last chapter was Alex's POV, and you might remember her comment: **_'The anger has long since gone. Just the sight of him makes me think about how many ways I could lose him. "I just…wanted to see how you were," I explain. I feel the tears coming on…'_ **She's noticing that here, but it's dismissed while she's thinking about much he matters to her and the fact that she could lose him. Hope that helps. ****Obrigado por seus****comentários!**

_**x x x **_

**Bobby's POV**

Everyone has those days where they just don't want to get out of bed.

Mine have been happening far too frequently. Or at least more often than I would like.

Lately, I've been having this recurring dream where I'm swimming underwater. Not sure if it's in a lake or the ocean. The water around me is murky and the sea floor is layered in something unidentifiable. No idea what brought me here. I assume I'm supposed to be searching for something.

At some point during my explorations, I'll glance up. The surface appears to be about 10 to 15 feet above me. The water turns more aqua in color, and then becomes clear. Beyond that, there's a clear blue, sunlit sky.

It's very inviting in contrast to this dreary marine floor, so I begin the ascent.

Although with every stroke or kick toward the surface, the oxygen pack I'm wearing gets heavier and the light above me starts to dim. After a little while, something will usually catch my foot, preventing me from ever reaching the surface. Breathing becomes more and more difficult.

Eventually the oxygen runs out and I fall back toward the sea floor. That's usually when I'll wake up.

Without a doubt, my nautical nightmare is a parallel to my daily life. But I know it's not just the dread and discomfort of the disease itself.

I miss my life before the cancer. I miss the job, the puzzles, the complexities of casework. Hell, even just the human interactions.

I miss the subway, the commute and grabbing coffee or food on the go because there is somewhere that I _must_ be.

Since beginning chemo, I've only managed to make it into Manhattan a few times. Those days I'll arrive at One PP at around 11:00, and stay as long as I'm able to do so. The doctors have ordered that I remain on leave, which technically means I'm not to show up at all.

Sometimes you need something to take your mind off the cancer.

Fortunately, there are still parts to my day that I still treasure.

_There's Alex… _

She might even be the only reason I get up some mornings.

She's never given me reason to doubt her compassion, but I sometimes wonder when she'll get tired of all of this and leave.

Honestly, I don't deserve her.

I just can't let her go.

_**x x**_

I'm done with my first cycle of treatments. I've had just over a week to recover and in a few days, the hell begins again.

For now at least, my mornings aren't quite as miserable.

I've just returned from visiting with Morgan Brady. She has a way of cheering me up too.

On the way to the hospital, I stopped off at a toy store and bought her a stuffed animal—a soft plush pony which she seems to like.

Even though she's struggling with this recent relapse of leukemia, you'd never notice from her attitude.

Her father Adam is understandably worried. He's been very withdrawn lately.

But she's taking it all in stride. She's one brave little girl.

She's a bright one too. And a little competitive. She's been kicking my butt at checkers lately and she won't let me forget it. She won three games in a row this morning. There's definitely going to be a rematch.

It's mid-afternoon and I'm getting ready to go over to Major Case. Alex has had a busy couple of days and nights, and I've really missed her.

I thought I'd check in with Deakins, see how the work flow is going, and then find out if Alex wants to grab dinner later. It'll give us a little time together in case she's expecting another late night.

Upon arriving, I wander into the bullpen and check a few things on my desk. There's a note to update my leave status, which I take care of with two phone calls.

Most of the detectives are out and Deakins is in his office with the door closed. Might not be a good time to disturb him, so I hover between mine and Alex's desks, finding menial things to occupy my time.

A little after my arrival, Barek returns from court. I find out that Logan and Reston have caught a case, and that Alex has left early.

"I heard she wasn't feeling well," Barek explains. "Thought she'd be at your place…?"

Everyone here knows that Alex has been staying with me for the past few weeks. We've kept quiet about the relationship, although I wouldn't be surprised if a few are starting to catch on.

I shake my head in response to her question. "When did she leave?"

"Some time after lunch, I guess. Haven't seen her since this morning."

I check my phone and there are no new messages or texts.

"Okay, thanks."

When Deakins steps out of his office, I learn a few more details about her case and other matters going on at MCS, but nothing specific about Alex leaving early. Just that it was her decision.

I head directly back to the apartment, in case I'd just missed her.

I try calling her cell phone but the call goes to voicemail, so I leave a short message.

I arrive back at the apartment, and there's no sign she's been there. After sending a text and waiting impatiently for another twenty minutes, there's still no word from her.

I'm torn between going to search for her and wanting to give her her space.

This relationship is still very new, and I'm not sure if we're at the stage where we need to check in with one another. I know I tend to worry about her more than I used to. She's been under a lot of stress lately. I know I'm mostly to blame for that.

I spend a few more minutes fretting about it before I grab my keys and head out the door. I figure I'll check her apartment first. She still keeps most of her things there. It was her decision to stay with me, but I won't make any assumptions as to whether or not the current living arrangement is permanent.

I arrive a little later. Her car is there.

I silently scold myself a few more times for intruding, but somehow that doesn't keep me from knocking on her door. I'd rather find out she's okay and have her angry with me, than discover she's inside and too sick to get help.

There's no answer so I use my key and open her door.

"Alex…?"

No sign of her and no response. I wander in a little further.

"Alex…?"

Next, I check her bedroom. She's lying in the bed on her side, facing away from the door.

I walk toward the side of the bed where she rests and crouch down on the floor beside her.

She's awake. She glances once in my direction, then returns her gaze to some random spot on the wall behind me.

She's been crying. In her eyes, I see the same signs of stress and fatigue that I've noticed over the past several weeks.

"Are you okay? I heard you were sick." I brush a few strands of her hair away from her eyes.

She doesn't respond. We pass a couple of minutes in silence.

But after a little more time passes, with neither of us talking and her avoiding eye contact, it begins to feel like there's a wall between us.

"Sweetheart, what's wrong?"

She lifts her head only slightly, then repositions it on the pillow. "I don't want to talk right now," she responds flatly.

I know I should probably leave. Just get up, walk on out of there and let her sleep.

But I don't. I stand there watching her. I'm hoping she tells me it's okay to stay.

I really want her to say that she needs me—just like the dozen or so times lately when I've needed her.

I want to lay down beside her, hold her and comfort her until she falls asleep—just as she's done for me those nights when I'm lying in a pool of vomit on the bathroom floor in the middle of the night.

I ponder crawling into bed with her anyway. She could sleep, and it's okay with me if we don't talk for now.

But just as I'm climbing in, she stops me. "Bobby, please…I need to be alone right now."

She doesn't sound angry or bitter.

She sounds teary. Maybe a little distressed.

I have absolutely no reason to complain about the fact that she's not willing to talk, nor wanting to be around me without any explanation…

Because I've done the exact same thing to her.

"Do you need me to…um…to get you anything?" I offer instead.

She gives a slight shake of her head.

"Okay… Call me later?" I hesitate just long enough for a response, but there isn't one. So I lean closer and kiss her cheek. "I love you."

I climb carefully out of her bed and leave the apartment.

There's nowhere to go but home.

I'm no longer in the mood to eat, so I lie down on the couch and stare absently at the ceiling.

According to Carolyn, Alex left work early because she wasn't feeling well.

Problem is…this doesn't _entirely_ sound like Alex.

I mean, sure…she gets sick. While at work, she'll take some over-the-counter painkillers and lay down for an hour. Of course, that's usually _after_ the captain or I have pressed the issue.

Fortunately, I could at least rule out a few immediate medical concerns. Her coloring looks fine and skin temperature feels normal.

To my knowledge, there's nothing out of the ordinary happening at MCS.

I know that she and Reston had planned to interview a couple of witnesses at Chelsea Piers this morning. According to Deakins, they had that case wrapped up before noon.

Barring some other unknown, there's her family and her home life. If something had happened with her family, she'd already be there. I don't think she'd keep that from me.

So that just leaves me.

Sorting through the things I've screwed up lately would take too long. I know I've been difficult to live with. I guess I'm still not used to having someone around to take care of me.

The worst fight we've had so far was because I had deliberately skipped a chemo appointment. It's not recommended and they'd prefer that I talk it over with the doctor first.

I felt achy, weak and miserable from the moment I woke up that morning. Vera says it's just anxiety and nerves. She's probably right. I just couldn't tolerate any more Benadryl, nor the saline flush, the hour of treatment and the subway trip home.

Instead, I spent the morning arguing with Vera and two of the medical assistants over the phone.

I like Vera very much. She treats me like I'm her own son. But I could bury those two cocky, pre-med dipshits in what I know about human anatomy.

That night, I was not in the mood for a fight with Alex over my decision to blow off one appointment. Unfortunately, Alex was already fuming over a dispute she had had with Carver earlier that day.

We were like a couple of lit fuses. Inevitably we fight, she storms out and I don't see her for the rest of the weekend.

I'll admit that I've not always done what I'm supposed to, and twice since the liver surgery, it's landed me back in the hospital.

I have days where I almost don't care what happens to me.

Sometimes it just gets that bad.

Alex is the only one brave enough to put up with all of this. Probably because she's more stubborn than I am.

Truth is, I'd be doing the exact same thing for her if the situation were reversed.

While I still don't think I deserve Alex, I already know I can't handle any of this without her.

We have had some rough nights over the past few weeks, but there have been some exceptions.

Like the nights when she's not stuck working late on a case, and neither of us is too sick, tired or irritable.

She'll come home and we'll have dinner. Sometimes we cook the meal together. We combine our talents and the food's been really great. I like that it's sort of become 'our' thing.

The entire time, we're talking, laughing, playing, teasing and flirting. I like how simple things can be between us sometimes. Cancer almost ceases to exist. Those nights always pass too quickly.

This is the part of our relationship that I love. It's the part that makes me want to look beyond the cancer and have a future with Alex.

_**x**_

I awake suddenly and glance around my living room. Didn't realize that I had dozed off.

It's a little dark in the room. I can still hear the steady stream of traffic from the street below, so it's probably nearing the end of rush hour.

Just before I get up from the couch to hit the light switch and search for a book to read, I realize that I'm not alone…

"Alex?"

"Sorry. Didn't mean to wake you. Just got here." She sets her jacket and a clothing bag down on the end of the couch, then opens the bag and begins sifting through it. I get up and turn on a few lights for her.

"Are you hungry? Do you want to go out and grab a bite to eat?" I ask her.

What's really weighing on my mind is what happened earlier. I'm wondering if she's okay, if she's still not feeling well, or if she just needs to talk.

At the moment, she looks a little distracted.

"No, not really. I think I'm just going to take a shower and catch up on some reading," she answers dismissively. She removes a tank top, some of those cotton things she calls stretch pants and tucks them both under one arm. Then she closes the bag and pads toward the bathroom.

_Something doesn't feel right…_

There's a brief moment where I tell myself not to push this matter. Just leave her alone.

But of course, I don't listen. I follow her.

She stands at the hall closet and reaches for a wash cloth in a stack that's about eight to ten inches above her head.

"Alex, what happened today?"

She doesn't reply.

She sets the one in her hand on a lower shelf and busies herself with refolding a few of the hand towels and cloths that had toppled over while she was retrieving the one she wanted.

She knows I'm standing there waiting for an answer.

I'm starting to feel a little frustrated. And a little ignored.

I went to her apartment to check on her. She knows I've got questions.

I gave her her space, and now she's here… In _my_ apartment. _It's time to talk!_

I raise my voice to her. "Alex!"

She turns her head just slightly in my direction, and out of the corner of her eye is her undisputed back-off glare.

_I've been warned…_

And of course, I still don't listen.

"Can you answer one simple question or is my closet really _that_ damn important?" I ask bitterly.

"What?" she snaps irritably, finally turning around to face me.

I might have questioned my role in whatever is bothering her, but now her expression leaves little room for doubt. "What in the hell did I do?"

She takes a shaky breath, "I can't do this right now." She retrieves her wash cloth, slams the hall closet door shut and heads toward the bathroom. The entrance is about four feet behind me, so she has to walk past me to get there.

I take a few steps backward, placing myself between her and the bathroom door. "Well then…_when?_" I counter impatiently.

"When I calm down!" she fires back, and then tries to push past me once more.

I raise my arm to block her from the door. "Calm down _from what_? What the hell happened? If you're _that_ pissed off at me, I'd at least like to know _why_?"

For a second, I honestly think she's about to tell me. Just then, her lower lip twitches. Knowing Alex, she's biting back tears.

"You know what? Screw you!" She shoots me another angry glare, tosses the wash cloth down in the hallway and storms back into the living room.

And again, I follow her.

Alex opens her bag, shoves the clothes back inside and then closes it. She snatches both the bag and the jacket up, and then turns to find me standing directly in her path. Her eyes show about as much emotional hurt and fatigue as they do anger.

She takes another shaky breath. Probably debating whether to ignore me or tell me how many ways I should go f- myself.

"Why the hell did you come here in the first place, if you're just going ignore me, pick a fight and then _leave?" _I charge defensively.

"_Why did I come back here? _Why do you think?" She pauses for a breath. "Because someone _always _has to cover your ass! Because you have a nasty habit of not following doctor's orders and when something happens, I have to make sure you get to a hospital!" She takes a breath and exhales slowly before she continues. "Look, please…just call me if you start having any pain where your stitches were, or if the coughing gets too bad," she requests quietly. She turns toward the door.

I roll my eyes. She's got this need to point out my problems and yet she hides herself from me.

Okay, I'll admit that I'm starting to push this matter a bit too far. I'm just tired of playing the role of the cancer patient while she carries on as if nothing is wrong with her.

_Bullshit… _She's tired, she's cranky, she's stressed, she's overworked and she's not eating.

"What in the hell is wrong with you?" I pose, just as she yanks the door open. "I thought this relationship was supposed to work both ways! You can stand there and point out my mistakes but you can't answer one simple question! What in the hell are you hiding?"

"_Hiding_?" She lets the door slam shut, turns, and narrows her eyes at me once again. "So there's _nothing_ you haven't shared with me lately?" She challenges.

"What? No, of course not!"

Her heated glare lingers a second longer, then she storms back toward the hallway and into the bedroom.

When I reach the door to my room, I see her standing at my closet, sifting through my jackets.

I quickly realize what she's looking for and why she's so mad.

Her hand retrieves a box of cigarettes from my jacket pocket. She is so irate at that point, that she nearly fumbles the box before she can grasp it in her palm.

When she turns to face me, she throws the pack at me hastily.

"No, see… _This_ says…you're lying!"

I'm less than five feet away and the box hits me squarely in the shoulder. It bounces onto the corner of the bed, slips off the comforter and onto the floor.

She takes two steps closer. There's fire in her eyes. "And if you think I'm given even the slightest impression that you care about me when you do _this_…then you need to have your fucking head examined!"

She storms out of the room.

I stand there gazing blankly at the open closet that has some of her clothes hanging up with mine. I briefly grasp the sleeve of her red silk blouse, letting the material slide between my thumb and index finger.

Her hand could have brushed against the pack inside my jacket pocket while she was getting something else out. That would explain how she found them.

As sick as it sounds, I think I actually wanted her to find them. I wanted her to make me stop.

There are only a few missing from that pack. Honestly, I'd only take a couple puffs before I'd become disgusted with myself and put it out.

I walk out of there and find her on the couch.

She's sitting sideways, one knee partially on the couch cushion. Her head is lowered. She's hunched over and sobbing heavily.

My heart shatters.

I walk over to the couch, sit down and wrap my arms around her.

I'm grateful that she doesn't try to push me away like I'd almost expect. Like I'd probably deserve.

She's upset to the point that her skin is flushed, her body is shaking and she's too warm.

_Dammit… This has gone too far. _

I use one hand to scoop her hair back from her neck and try to get some cooler air on her skin.

I lean closer, rocking us gently back and forth, trying to settle her down. "Sweetheart… Oh God…I'm so sorry." I sigh. "I don't want to smoke anymore. I just— Some days I don't know how to handle this."

Her breathing is broken by occasional gasps.

I hate what I've done to her.

I get so angry sometimes—which is nothing new for me. Some days I sit in this apartment and I'm either debilitated by side effects and can't go anywhere, or I'm going out of my mind with nothing to do and no end in sight.

I'd like one day without being constantly reminded of this damn disease.

Some of this anger and depression is beyond my control. It's a consequence of the chemo and what it does to my head.

But things have got to change. She doesn't deserve this.

"Please, don't cry," I whisper. "I just—I worry about you. I didn't mean— I'm so sorry," I say, as I try to console her. "I'll throw them out. I'm done with cigarettes. Please, sweetheart, I'm—"

She shifts her head. "Bobby…?"

"Yes?"

Her gasps slow just a little as she tries to speak. "I'm pregnant…" She lowers her head, sinks into my arms and her cries continue.

_Oh…my…God…_

For a couple moments, I sit there dumbstruck. I'm lost in an emotional whirlwind—going through the typical stages of shock, disbelief, guilt and panic.

As I refocus on her and I'm drawn out of it.

I hold her in my arms, listening to her tears, feeling her distress.

How she can sit here resting against me, trusting me to comfort her after all I've done to make her life so complicated, I'll never know.

I used to think about fatherhood. Wondered if I could actually be a good father. I've worried about the impact my genes could have on a child. My father was a serial killer. My mother had schizophrenia. Frank was a junkie. Cancer runs in the family…

So what _exactly_ would I be passing on to my son or daughter?

But recently, I began to give up on any notion of having a family. It's hard enough to start a relationship—much less a serious one, when there's so little time for dating. My job is important to me. I guess I thought I'd always have that.

Then the cancer hit… Over this past year, I've had to accept that this disease may run its course. If things go one way, I may not have a choice about the future, my job, or even my life.

I'd have to find something else to sustain me.

But I never expected something to happen romantically between Alex and me.

We really haven't been 'dating' each other. We basically live together and occasionally spend time with each other. We hardly have much of a sex life. I've wondered how this relationship could be gratifying to her at all.

She has taken on a very personal role by moving in and taking care of me. I never realized just how close and intimate two people would have to be in order to deal with something like this.

She's had to help me get dressed, shower and shave. Sometimes, I can't even get to the bathroom without her help.

As independent as I am, a relationship like this is very difficult.

But I'm learning. And now, my love for her runs very deep.

_**x**_

I sit here with her nestled against me, smiling as I think about us.

It scares me how much I'm starting to want this. Or how protective I'm starting to feel toward Alex and this baby right now.

I should probably feel a bit more anxious or worried or somehow angry at the curve ball that life has just hurled in my direction…

But, I'm not.

Because now something feels…_different_.

Maybe the dust is finally settling. Maybe this is exactly what I need.

I don't have the slightest damn clue how any of this is supposed to work.

I just know that I want to be part of it.

_**x**_

"Are you okay?" I ask her a few minutes later when she settles back so I can see her.

She slowly nods and begins wiping her tears away with her hands. I get up and grab a couple of tissues for her. "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry too," she responds after I sit back down on the couch. I take her hand in mine.

"You have no reason to be sorry," I respond firmly. I reach up with the other hand and brush her hair back with my fingers.

"Yes, I do. I didn't handle that very well," she says with a sniffle. "Didn't know how to tell you," she responds shaking her head.

"We have a lot to talk about."

She nods in agreement. A couple seconds later, she squeezes my hand, gets up from the couch and begins to roam nervously. I find it a little amusing that she's developed some of the my nervous pacing habits just since she's moved in with me.

We gravitate toward this one spot at the edge of the kitchen counter and continue the conversation.

She begins to tell me about her day; her appointment and the conversation with the doctor. Just after giving her the news of the pregnancy, the doctor mentions that her blood pressure is a little high. She strongly cautions her to change her habits, take better care of herself, or she's risking hers and the baby's lives.

"I quite agree," I respond firmly when she finishes. "And I'm going to be a pain in your ass about it."

"You're already pain in the ass," she teases with a nudge and a smirk.

I smile back. "By the way…what happened with the…um…?"

"Birth control..." she finishes for me. "I went off the pill a while ago. There hasn't been anyone in…a very long time."

"Same here," I respond to her last comment. "And I'm sorry. I probably had some condoms. I just assumed..." I glance nervously toward the floor as the guilt hits.

"It's okay. I wasn't even thinking about it."

I lift my head a little and gaze at Alex—her eyes showing me a mixture of emotions while we're both thinking about the events of that night—the news of my metastasized cancer and our suddenly evolving relationship.

"I didn't mean to put you in this…position," I explain regretfully. "Your career...?"

"What about _your_ career?" she counters.

I shake my head. "I don't know. But I want to have something to offer you both_._" The words fly out of my mouth without hesitation. Intentions aren't enough. The fact that I can't make such a promise begins to sting like hell.

"Can I ask you something?" I begin hesitantly.

"Sure."

"Why do you stay with me?"

"What?"

"After all I've put you through," I explain guiltily.

She gazes at me curiously. "Bobby…"

"I just… You deserve better."

"Better than…_what_?"

"What do you mean… _'Better than what?'_ Better than me!" I argue.

She shakes her head. "We've had a rocky start… But I don't question the fact that you love me."

I nod and smile, wondering what I did to deserve her affection.

Her hand reaches for my chest and she levels her eyes in about the same spot. "I can't even begin to imagine some of what you've been through," she begins quietly. "I can't blame you for feeling confused…and lost…and scared. I'd be too." Her eyes drift up to meet mine. "And I hate that there's not a damn thing I can do to help you."

"Alex…no—"

She holds her hand up gesturing that she's not done. "Some days I want to punch walls…and hit things…and scream about ten times a day how fucking unfair this is!" Her eyes are now glistening with a sheen of tears. "But it doesn't help."

I gaze at her a second longer before pulling her into my arms. We embrace.

A moment later, we settle back down on the couch. She nestles beside me and we talk a little more. We reconnect. We make promises to take care of ourselves and to accept the help from each other.

There's so much uncertainty with this disease, but I can do more. I can stop a lot of my bad habits and things that make her worry.

Definitely no more cigarettes. No more skipped appointments.

They deserve much more from me.

It will take time. We agree to really work at this relationship. To be partners in every sense of the word.

She glances up, then takes her hand from my shoulder and reaches toward my scalp, sifting gently through the thin strands of hair.

"Is it growing back?" I ask her. Sure I've seen it in the mirror, but I wanted her opinion. I lower my head a little more for her to see.

Alex nods. "Looks good. Just got a little thin, really. Lighter in some places. It's coming in pretty good here," she says, tracing her finger tips and nails lightly around the top of my scalp, which feels nice.

I smile. "Morgan says I still need a hat. Probably wants to pick it out for me, too."

"And you'd better like her ponies!" She asserts playfully, referring to the fact that Morgan will add these silly little horse stickers to everything. "How's she doing?"

"As precocious as ever. She asked about you today."

Alex smiles. "I'll have to go see her soon."

"She'd like that."

We're quiet for a moment. She glances down reflectively and then looks back at me. "So… You have any preference?"

"On?"

"Boy or girl?"

"No," I reply. "Just a healthy baby."

She tilts her head a little to the side. "Really? You're so fond of Morgan. Thought you might be hoping it's a girl."

"I'll be happy either way. What about you?"

"Same here," she responds.

I nod.

"Although I'll admit... When I was at my apartment, I started to picture this adorable little boy that looks just like you," she replies, gazing up at me smittently. "Same smile…" she reaches for my scalp again. "…same dark wavy hair…"

I'm sure she means when more if it is _actually_ there.

"…same handsome face…same deep brown eyes—"

I pull her closer, nuzzling her face and lightly kissing her cheek, her chin, and her lips.

I pause for just a second to look into her eyes. The connection we seem to have right now is just unbelievably strong. I love her so completely.

Unable to resist that beautiful smile of hers, our lips meet again.

It's a slow, sensual kiss. I pull her even closer. She opens her mouth to deepen the kiss. When she moans softly, a bolt of electricity surges through me. My heart pounds relentlessly. I'm losing myself in this.

About the time I decide we should stop so we can catch our breaths, Alex's stomach makes a fierce growl.

It's too much. I start to laugh.

I lower my head, resting it on her shoulder while my eyes begin to tear up from laughing. "I'm sorry," I say, apologizing for ruining the moment.

I can't help it. Alex's stomach is notoriously loud when she's hungry. Just one of those adorable things that I love about her.

She is probably thinking I'm crazy. But that's okay.

"I skipped lunch," she explains.

"If that's our baby… I think we'd better feed it," I tease, still chuckling.

She rolls her eyes, grins and finally laughs along with my insanity.

I glance at the clock. "Well, it's about 9:00. Can I buy you two a late dinner?" I offer.

She smiles. "Sure."

_**x x **_

She drives us to a Greek restaurant in mid-town Manhattan. It's one of her favorite spots. We get out of the car, and she walks around the vehicle to meet me on the curb.

Just as we're about to go into our usual, '_if-anyone-sees-us,-we're-just-Goren-and-Eames_' routine, I quickly wrap my arm around her.

When she glances up at me curiously, I lean down and kiss her—it's not a quick one either.

So far, I've really been the one with concerns over who sees us together. It's more for her sake—I know how the brass feels about me. Especially as of late. It's not even the cancer as much as having a desked cop on payroll—a desked cop who is more restless than usual these days, not listening to doctor's orders and has a history of anger management issues.

Anyway, she believes that as long as we keep it out of work, it's no one else's business.

We obviously have some concerns to address over the next few months.

But tonight is about us.

One glance at her after our kiss breaks, and I know she's thinking the same thing.

We walk into the restaurant and are seated at a table in the corner. I take the seat facing the window and Alex sits directly to my right. The server takes our order, and we continue talking about her cases, random work topics and friends. There's a little more discussion about her pregnancy.

Throughout dinner, we hold hands and exchange affectionate glances, touches and smiles. Lots of sparks. There's something incredible happening between us tonight.

Since it's after 10:00 by the time we finish our dinner and most of the crowd has migrated downstairs to the bar or elsewhere—we even kiss a little.

The server brings us our check, blushing when she discovers that she's interrupted a private moment. She smiles warmly. "Well…you two lovebirds enjoy your night. Come back and see us again."

We return our attention to each other. Alex takes a hold of my collar, guiding me closer for another kiss.

A moment later, from somewhere behind me, someone makes a loud attempt at clearing their throat.

The kiss ends abruptly. Alex—who has a better view of the individual from where she's seated—glances up. She rolls her eyes, blushes and smirks.

"What?" I ask her.

"You two look…_awfully_ _cozy_," comes the familiar voice behind me.

I turn slowly, meeting the eyes of our amused coworker. "How's it going, Logan? You and Reston catch Jade Masterson's killer yet?" I'm referring to the case they had caught earlier that day. The victim is the daughter of a judge.

Sure it may have been a poor attempt to distract him from the obvious, but I'm also curious about this case.

"Nope. No leads yet" he answers, still eyeballing the two of us.

It's not really that big of a deal that Logan knows about us—just how he found out. He'll tease us mercilessly for weeks. And knowing Logan, the claim will be that we were making out in public, instead of merely giving each other chaste kisses in the corner of a dimly lit Manhattan restaurant.

Not that either of us really minds. It's harmless fun. We've spent enough time together that the friendship, partnership and mutual respect we all have for one another is a given.

"Sorry to interrupt your date. By the way, the closest hotel is about a block and a half that way," he comments, pointing toward the window that faces east.

"So where's your date?" I inquire. Because there's a fairly good chance that we already know whom he's with.

"She's in the restroom. We're heading out now," he answers quickly.

"And how_ is_ Detective Barek tonight?" Alex asks smugly.

So far, no one's been able to prove that the two of them are dating. We've voiced our suspicions and Logan ignores it all. Although, I think he's very happy with her.

Much to mine and Alex's amusement—this time, he can't make excuses. We smile at each other when we see her walk up at about that time. Logan smiles and blushes a little.

"Hey Carolyn," Alex greets her.

She glances from Logan to the two of us. The concern shows in her eyes the instant she sees Alex. "You feeling any better?" she inquires.

"Yeah. I think I just needed to grab a couple hours sleep."

"Good! Glad to hear it. You need to take care of yourself, too."

Alex nods politely. Probably tired of hearing it, but she understands that it's said out of respect.

I catch Barek's eye and smile, glad that she's looking out for Alex too.

Alex may have been overwhelmed by her news, but there's no question by anyone in the department that she could use a couple hours of personal leave. I'm hoping that she actually grabbed an hour of sleep at her apartment, but under the circumstances, I'm doubting it.

Barek suddenly notices mine and Alex's adjoined hands resting atop the black linen table cloth. "So…" she arches an eyebrow. "Are you two enjoying your…_date?"_

"Should we tell them?" Alex asks me a little hesitantly.

"Sure." I guess the first step is to start sharing the news with others. Probably easier to start with friends.

She smiles at both of them. "I'm pregnant."

After the initial gasps, the alarmed responses and they finish congratulating us…Logan nudges me with a smirk. "What happened? Forget to put the safety on your Glock, Detective?"

Alex and I laugh. I think at this stage, we've concluded that—protection or not—this was no mistake.

Next, he turns toward her. "So…your kid may look and act like… _this_," he points at me. "And you're okay with it?" Logan teases.

She laughs. "Right. One more genius I can't keep up with," she jokes back.

We all talk for a few more minutes, pay our check, and say our goodbyes.

_**x**_

Still feeling energized and because it's a nice night, Alex and I decide to go for a walk.

There's no particular destination; we just wander. We talk, laugh, flirt, but mostly just enjoy each other's company.

There are no words to describe how I feel right now. Something's…different.

No difficulties breathing, no mouth sores, no nausea, no discomfort near my stitches. Nothing hurts. I actually feel pretty damn good.

I've got my right arm wrapped around her snugly, we're strolling along slowly and she's telling me a story about her nephew. I love the warmth and affection in her tone as she talks about him.

I listen to her story, responding with occasional comments.

I've seen couples like us before—the ones who look so happy, so in love. I used to wonder if I'd ever find this.

We're a short distance from Central Park and there's a concert going on inside the park. It's a closed show. Our fellow officers stand near the barricades, keeping a close watch of the crowd both inside and outside the park.

A few interested non-attendees are lingering outside the park at a distance to listen to the music, which can still be heard in spite of the traffic and the lively crowd gathered closer to the stage.

Based on the late hour, the show is probably close to wrapping up.

It's a performer we both like. We chat with a few of the security cops that we recognize, then we seek out our own private spot along 5th Avenue—mostly away from the crowd—to stand and listen.

I wrap both arms around her and she gazes up at me with those beautiful, smiling eyes. Unable to resist, I pull her closer. We kiss slowly, tenderly. A breeze blows past us and the scent of her hair mixes with the hint of spring air. It's sweetly intoxicating.

When we break for some air, she mentions that we should probably head home in a little while. She's looking out for me as usual.

I agree to that. I'm thinking that she really needs her sleep as well.

I'm going to do whatever I can to make sure her pregnancy goes smoothly from here on.

I think I'm actually looking forward to all of this.

As we resume kissing, these images suddenly fill my mind and my heart.

I think about holidays and family gatherings and weekend getaways and afternoons spent teaching our son or daughter how to ride a bike in Central Park.

When we pause for some air, I nuzzle her cheek affectionately.

I tell her that I'm in love with her.

Somewhere in the distance, the singer thanks his crowd and begins his final song of the night. It's a ballad.

I pull her close and take her hand in mine. We slow dance.

The song is perfect. The night is perfect. She is perfect.

The rest of the world fades away.

_**x x **_

_**~About 4 months later~**_

"Done?" Logan asks, as he approaches my desk around 5:30 with his belongings in hand.

He sets his things down on the floor and perches on the corner of Eames' desk. "Carolyn and I are going to grab a drink. Want to join us?"

"No, but thanks. I'm going to head home," I reply.

"The little woman's got a short leash on you, huh?" he teases.

"Today's the day we find out the sex of the baby," I announce proudly. "She's had her appointment so she should be headed home pretty soon."

"Ah," he responds with an appreciative nod. He stands up and collects his things. "Well, give Alex our best."

"Thanks, I will."

"Good night, Goren."

"Good night."

Logan heads toward the elevators just as Deakins steps out of his office. "Hey, Mike! Got a minute?" He nods and I watch the two of them retreat back into the captain's office.

I stand up and gather my belongings before heading out.

Lately things have been going pretty good.

Alex is doing great and our baby is coming along just fine. At Major Case, she's now on desk and I've been mostly working with Logan.

I'm feeling better in general. I did notice a little pain in my back and neck just since this morning. It comes and goes. So far, I'm thinking it's due to the way I slept last night.

I still have some trouble breathing, but I'm just getting back into exercising and I think it's just going to take some time. Really don't want to let up on it, because I know the exercise is helping. Not coughing quite as much these days.

Best of all, I've kept my promises to Alex. She and this baby mean everything to me. I refuse to let them down.

I start toward the elevators.

As I round the corner and hit the button, I start to feel a little tired. Well, it's been a long day. I loosen my tie, pull it off and unbutton the top two shirt buttons. _Too damn warm in this building_.

When the bell sounds signaling that the elevator has arrived, I walk toward it.

A sudden weakness floods over me. I begin to feel very dizzy.

_Something's wrong… _

There's tightness in my arm and an incredible ache in my chest. I can't breathe. The lights seem brighter…and warmer.

I turn back towards the bullpen. Maybe I'd better catch the next one.

Suddenly, I hear Alex's distressed voice… _'Bobby…? Bobby…? You okay…?' _

Except, I know she's not here.

Chaos erupts. People start running towards me, only I can't make out who they are or even judge their voices. It's all a blur.

All I hear is Alex calling me again and again and again…

She's frantic and I can't let her worry. Can't upset her.

'_I'm okay, sweetheart. Don't worry. Think about the baby. I love you both…'_

My feet slip out from under me.

I'm sinking. Falling.

Darkness settles in.

_**x x x **_

_**TBC…**_

**A/N… Yes, I had a particular performer and song in mind when they danced. Just someone I'm listening to a lot lately. I'll let you know if you're curious. I thought it was good for them. It does kind of fit the story in its own way, but it's not critical. You can insert your own there too. **


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N… Hey guys… Sorry again for the delay. I hit a spell of writer's block, but fortunately, I was still somewhat productive. The result is my post-ep one shot to SVU's Acceptable Loss entitled (appropriately) "Unacceptable Loss". It's LOCI-centric. BA. My way of getting these two back together. ;) Should have that up shortly.**

**To SELL…Thanks again for your comments! The song I was thinking of is "Forever" by Kenny Loggins. He ends every concert with that one. I've sort of adopted it as their song for this story, so I play it whenever I write BA scenes. I know the one you mentioned though. Very nice! Really wish I could respond to your messages personally, so I could tell you how close I am to updating. **

**Many flashbacks in this one. 'The ****_present_****' begins where the last chapter/scene ended (i.e., Bobby at the precinct). The 'past' covers the events that occur between the night Bobby is told about her pregnancy and the present, and they are in order of occurrence. **

* * *

**__****_x x x _**

**Alex's POV**

**_~Present~_**

"Are you ready, Alex?"

I nod and settle back on the table as the lab tech begins the ultrasound.

I've tossed and turned some nights, wondering how the hell we're going to make everything work.

Despite the usual hang-ups, there's always the fear that something unpleasant is lurking just around the corner—especially whenever the phone rings.

We still have good days and difficult days.

Fortunately, through it all, I think we've gotten even closer.

So I focus on us, trying to block out the discomfort in my muscles, while my skin responds to the cold gel that's spread over my abdomen.

Already too damn cold in this room.

I try to ignore the cramping discomfort in my left side. Not to mention the fact that I have to pee really bad. _Again._

Because in just a few more minutes, this will all be over. I can go home, and Bobby and I can finally pick out a name for our baby.

No matter what we have, this baby is a gift.

Less than 4 months left until we get to meet this little one. We're both so excited.

But there are days when that due date can't come soon enough…

**_x x x_**

**_~Past~ _**

It had been a long day. The only thing I'd been looking forward to is getting the leftovers out of the refrigerator, curling up with Bobby and watching something mindless on TV until we both fall asleep. I doubt it'll take me very long tonight.

It's almost 8:00 when I turn the key and open the door to Bobby's apartment. I guess it's basically our place. We're looking at moving into a slightly bigger place, with a room for a nursery. Not sure when that'll happen.

The first thing I notice as I open the door is that all of the lights are out.

My eyes try to adjust to the dimness. The outside street lamp through the window affords just enough light so that I see Bobby's hunched form perched on the edge of the couch cushion. One hand partially covers his face.

"Bobby?"

I slowly take a couple of steps inside and close the door. I'm not sure why, but the panic is already setting in.

"Bobby is everything okay? Why are you sitting in the dark?"

I take a few more steps toward the couch. He draws in a shaky breath, then sniffles.

_He's crying? _

My heart sinks. "Sweetheart? What's wrong?" I set my things down and sit beside him on the couch, wrapping an arm around him.

Clutched in his fingers is the yellow bracelet that Morgan gave him.

He sniffles again. "Vera just called. Morgan passed away."

"Oh no! Oh God…I'm so sorry, Bobby!"

The doctors had said for weeks that her leukemia wasn't improving. No one wanted to believe the worst.

Turning his head slightly in my direction he adds, "Vera says she had a rough night last night. Hadn't eaten. She went into a coma this afternoon and just…"

The breath that I'd been holding ever since I'd walked in and found him like this is released in a heavy sigh.

I settle back on the couch and with little effort, coax Bobby closer. His upper body falls heavily against mine.

The rest of the night slips away in a sobering silence.

Morgan was such a sweet, spirited little girl. With her red hair and bright eyes, she'd grab your attention just from entering a room.

The first impression I had of her was that she loved being the center of attention. She's very sociable. Very silly sometimes.

Everyone called her 'Fireball.' Everyone who knew her, loved her.

As I got to know her, I came to appreciate something else about her.

Her whole life she's been surrounded by cancer and death, and she spends about as much time at the hospital as some of the people who work there. And yet, here she is—this happy, upbeat, little girl. She wants everyone around her to be happy. When they weren't, she'd go to work on them. She doesn't get discouraged. Nothing but love and smiles.

She and I got along great. But she just adored Bobby. And he obviously felt the same way.

I love the times she'd come skipping down the corridor at the hospital and greet him in her usual, gleeful pitch, _"Bobbeeeeeeeeeeee!"_

He'd smile, scoop her up and hug her. _"Hey, kiddo."_

Then she'd launch into a conversation about her day and he'd give her his undivided attention, whatever the topic. I think Bobby's visits with her were almost therapeutic.

Her passing definitely worries me. Obviously, they have shared experiences with the cancer. Somehow, I think she taught him how to cope with the disease better than anyone could.

With her gone, I don't know how to offer the same kind of help.

**_x x x _**

**_~Present~_**

As soon as I step of from the clinic, my phone rings. Carolyn Barek's name appears on the display.

"Hey, Carolyn."

"Alex! Bobby's just collapsed!" Carolyn's panicked voice comes through on the other line.

I start for the car at a hurried pace. "What happened?"

"I don't know… Just saw him after it happened. The guys tried CPR but he wasn't responding. They're taking him to New York Medical. Mike's with him."

"Thanks, I'm on my way."

I shove my phone back into my bag and get in the car, mumbling to myself the entire way…

_Just let him be okay…just let him be okay…just let him be okay…_

Because of a wreck on the BQE, it takes me about 20 minutes to get there. By the time I arrive, I'm angry, frustrated and shaking so bad that I can barely steer the car into the parking space.

I enter the hospital getting a lot of odd stares from people. I guess a frantic, pregnant woman running into the ER isn't a very welcoming sight.

As I near the patient check-in counter, Mike and Carolyn spot me and approach, both with similar weary expressions.

Mike touches my arm and leans in closer, speaking in a hushed tone. "I rode with him here. EMTs and two of our guys who saw him collapse think it might have been a heart attack. He was completely unresponsive. Blood pressure was low when they checked vitals."

"Any updates?"

"Not a peep since they brought him in," Mike responds irritably. He nods toward the haze of green scrubs and white lab coats behind the patient counter. About six to eight hospital personnel are busy pulling patient records, talking on the phone, directing patients or conversing with one another.

"Thanks." I turn to the counter and start speaking to the first person who doesn't appear otherwise occupied. "Excuse me, I'd like an update on Robert Goren."

The middle-aged man in scrubs glances up at me tiredly. Looks like he's probably on his second shift and is still waiting for his double espresso to kick in. He pulls a clipboard off the counter behind him, scans it until he's about near the bottom of the list, then he turns back toward me. "The doctor is with him now."

"What is his status?" I demand.

"Ma'am, are you a friend or family?"

_Damn these people and their formalities when I'm worried out of my mind… _"I'm his wife!"

**_x x x _**

**_~Past~_**

A couple of weeks after we found out about the baby, Bobby and I decide to meet my family for dinner to tell them the news.

It would have been sooner, but neither of us was up for it. Bobby was still recovering from his last series of treatments, then came Morgan's funeral.

I'm still less than three months into this pregnancy and starting to put on some weight. Definitely not showing just yet. I don't know why, but I still feel a little apprehensive that my mom or someone will notice immediately. Bobby thinks I'm just worrying too much.

We arrive, and much to my surprise, everyone's there. Usually there's a soccer game, a sick kid and no sitter, or someone's working late.

I haven't been very good about keeping up with my family lately—not that I haven't been exceptionally busy. I don't get to visit with my nieces and nephews often enough. They're so much bigger every time I see them.

My parents had baked a ham, and the rest of us brought side dishes and dessert. Although Bobby and I won't be having any, there's a wide assortment of liquor.

There's the usual bustle of energy—everyone wanting to catch me up on what I've missed over the past few weeks or months.

The Eames clan can be a bit overwhelming when we all get together. Plus, it includes six very energetic children. Bobby and I are about to increase that tally to seven.

Finally, all eighteen of us sit down to dinner.

Bobby and I had previously agreed to wait until after dessert to spring the news on everyone.

Honestly, it's a great thing. We know the timing isn't the best, but we love each other and we already love this baby.

I guess it's nerves, but as the night wears on, I'm finding less to contribute to the dinner conversations and instead, just choosing to eat.

At some point, I glance over at Bobby.

He returns my gaze, eyebrows raised. "Hungry?"

"What?"

"You're really attacking that plate," he directs to me privately, chuckling.

"I don't know… Just nerves I guess."

"Not that I'm complaining. It's been a while since I've seen you eat like that."

"I eat!"

He smirks.

"Quit picking at me and eat your dinner!"

He takes my hand, gives it a light squeeze, then winks at me.

I smile back. Such a pain in the ass, but I love him.

After everyone is finished with dessert, Bobby nudges me, then glances toward my parents before addressing the group. "Hey, everyone."

The conversations fade to a low murmur, and then finally stop as Bobby stands up from the table.

"Alex and I have some news to share tonight. It's big news, so I'm glad everyone could make it. Before I get to this big news, I wanted to thank you all for your well-wishes and kindness."

My family has been very sweet. My parents sent flowers after he went in for surgery, and my parents and siblings have called occasionally, just to see how he's doing. I like that they're not overbearing—just thoughtful.

They do tend to get a little overprotective sometimes. So I have wondered about what might change once they find out about the baby.

"You let us know if you need anything, Bobby," my dad chimes in.

"Thanks, Mr. Eames."

"Johnny," he corrects.

"Right, sir," Bobby smiles nervously. "Anyway… I couldn't have made it this far without all your support." Then he turns to me. "And most especially…_yours."_

His eyes drift over the room and I sense he's collecting his thoughts. "I don't know what I did to deserve her, but I know I'll never be able to thank her properly for all she's done for me. She's always been the best partner. And now, she's the best…well…_everything_."

I feel my face turning red as everyone's eyes are now focused on me. "Thanks," I respond, smiling nervously.

Bobby continues. "I've had a lot of very low moments with this cancer. Which they say is normal. But some days you really question whether it's worth it—the treatment, the frequent trips to the hospital—all to be told that you're not getting any better…"

He pauses a moment, then gestures toward me. "I wonder how she does it. Because not only does she have to endure my sickness and the lack of certainty with this disease, she has to endure my doubts, my anger, my frustration, my depression. She accepts it, all of it, without hesitation. She'll spend the night at the hospital with me. She'll wake up during the night and help me when I'm struggling with the chemo symptoms, or she'll clean my stitches. She might nag me from time to time…" he smirks, his eyes return to mine briefly, "…to follow doctor's orders, but I know she does it out of love. She takes time to listen to me—even as I'm yelling or complaining that I've had more than I can take. And I know she's just as tired and worn out from taking care of me the night before…" He pauses briefly, everyone is silent, all attention is focused on Bobby. "But she won't let me quit. It's only because of her, that I haven't. Just wanted to share that with you all."

The adults in the room are smiling and glancing back and forth between us. My mom and sister are getting a little teary-eyed.

Two of my youngest nieces are curled up in their respective parent's lap, sound asleep. The other children have migrated into the living room, with my sister-in-law, Jessica keeping an eye on them. Sounds like she's found a Disney movie on cable for them to watch.

I never expected this kind of speech tonight from Bobby. We hadn't really decided on what would be said tonight, or who would say it. I just thought we'd announce the news, and that would be it.

I know he worries that he monopolizes my time away from my family. But I've told him repeatedly that it wasn't an issue. I guess he still feels the need to address it.

I'm not sure if it's the memory of some of those events, or the gratitude that he's offering to me in his kind words, but I'm getting a little teary as well.

And of course, it might be the hormones too.

Bobby glances around the room again, grinning nervously. "Well… We've actually come here tonight to make an announcement… We're both a bit…overwhelmed, but thrilled. Umm… Alex is pregnant! We're going to have a baby," he announces excitedly.

A lot of gasps, followed by congratulations echoed by my family members, and some applause.

We even get a few wise cracks from my brothers. Gotta love them for being such smartasses.

We smile, laugh and thank them all for their love and support.

Bobby waits for the commotion to settle. "We know it's not going to be easy. But we also know that this baby will be given a lot of love. From us…and from all of you."

He turns back toward me. "Alex… I wish I could take some of the stress away and make this as comfortable of a pregnancy for you as possible," he says softly. Noticing my tears, he squats down beside my chair, takes his handkerchief out of his pocket and blots my eyes. "Unfortunately, I know we're still waiting on the results of my last test. But I love you both. I'm going to do everything I can…so I can be there for the two of you."

I smile back. A little embarrassed by my tears, but I love him for being so sweet.

He shoves the handkerchief back inside his pocket, lowers his head, then glances back up at me sheepishly. "I have a small confession to make…"

"What's that?"

"Your family already knew."

"Already knew _what_?"

"About the baby."

My smile fades. "What do you mean…_they knew_?" I glance around the room, seeing more smirks and guilty faces—all except for my mom and sister who are smiling innocently, but still teary. "Bobby? Why would you tell them without me?"

Bobby glances up at me, still grinning. He finally pulls his hand back out of his pocket, then gazes up at me sheepishly. "Because I wanted them all here tonight."

"What…?"

He opens his palm and shows me the small black velvet box.

My mouth just gapes open.

"Alex…"

"Oh my…God!"

"I…wanted them to know…everything. Because I wanted to be sure…that it would be okay with them…if I asked you to marry me."

I just sit there dumbstruck, staring at Bobby.

"Alex, no one has ever loved me like you have. No one has ever given me so much without asking for anything in return. I know that I haven't been easy to deal with, I haven't always treated you with the love and respect you deserve, and yet, you have so much faith in us. And in me. You listen to me, comfort me, you've fought so that I can keep my job. Over a year ago, I found out about the cancer and didn't feel like there was much hope. Part of me didn't care. I watched my mom give up and pass away, and I figured it was only a matter of time until I couldn't handle it anymore. But all you've done, since the day you found out…is offer yourself—your time, your patience, your commitment—everything so selflessly. Funny thing is, cancer used to be all I could think about. What matters most to me now is you, us, our baby and our future. I love you, Alex." He opens the box, offering up the ring. "Will you marry me?"

**_x x x _**

**_~Present~_**

It's an hour and a half before I hear anything.

Finally the doctor approaches the check-in counter. There's a short conversation between himself and a female medical assistant. The medical assistant points in my direction.

The doctor gestures for me to come up to the counter. Logan and Barek stand up and follow a few paces behind, but they are halted near the counter. The doctor and I walk down the hall and enter one of those family counseling rooms.

Inside there's an ugly yellow vinyl couch with a sizable rip in the middle cushion. Beside it, a matching chair. There's a coffee table filled with pamphlets on everything from the latest medications, to surgery, to making final arrangements for loved ones.

I'm already not liking this.

"What's going on, Doctor?" I ask, after he shuts the door.

"Why don't you have a seat?"

I decline. "What's going on?" I repeat.

"Your husband had a heart attack. Unfortunately, it wasn't a mild one."

I nod slowly. This is sort of what we suspected. "So how is he?"

"Okay for the moment, but there are some serious concerns. His x-rays show some damage to his heart that was likely there before the attack. Might be the chemotherapy, poor diet, stress or some combination. We are treating him for a blockage. He's on oxygen and beta blockers. A bigger problem is that his x-rays show an enlarged growth on the left lobe of his lung. There's extensive scarring where he's had masses removed before, which I'm sure you're aware of. Cancer is a beast. It always seems to be seeking healthy tissue to destroy."

He seems to detour his explanation after telling me about the lung. He's obviously stalling and the lack of eye contact further supports that. "What are you saying?"

He huffs out a sigh. "His lungs are failing. They're not getting enough oxygen to the heart. The tumor—because of its location, size and development, seems to be affecting his heart-lung function. He would need to have a rather invasive procedure to remove the tumor and—"

"So, he needs surgery," I interrupt, perhaps a little hastily.

"Well, it's not that simple." He sighs heavily. "The type of procedure that we're talking about is too risky, and it's certainly not something I would recommend based on his medical records from Brooklyn, and his overall health. I don't think he'll survive more trauma," he reports grimly. "I don't want to distress you further, but you need to understand there's a chance he'll start to decline. Rest assured that he's not in any significant pain right now."

"So you're just going to…? What? Leave him hooked up to machines?" I spout angrily. Really don't like this doctor. I'm starting to cry.

He puts his hand on my arm and I really wish he'd remove it. "We're doing everything we can. We need to monitor him while looking at some options. We'll let you know when you can visit with him. He's very weak and should rest as long as he's able to do so…"

He continues. I know he's talking, but I don't hear him. I don't even hear what's been said over the intercom outside the door.

At first, I feel just a little light-headed. Starting to wonder if that chair might be a good idea after all.

Then my legs sort of give out. Then everything goes dark.

When I come to, the doctor is squatting beside me on the floor.

Fortunately, I think the doctor reached out in time to break my fall. Well, somewhat.

My arms and legs are very sore for some reason. My head hurts and the lights in the room are suddenly very bright.

A medical assistant is in and out a few times with cups of water, and a lab tech brings in some portable oxygen equipment. The doctor puts an oxygen mask over my mouth and nose, and then checks vitals—mine and the baby's. Everything checks out and I start feeling less foggy in a few minutes.

The doctor is talking to me the entire time, although because of my initial haziness, I'm having trouble hearing him.

As soon as I start to pick up on his words, I realize that I'm being given a lecture on stress and the unborn baby.

I'm really not in the mood, but I promise to give Dr. James a call tomorrow to follow up, just so he'll shut the hell up.

Moments later, I return to the waiting room and find Logan and Barek waiting for me.

Neither of them have been told anything, of course.

I tearfully relay the information that I'd been given.

After that, Logan and Barek leave at my insistence. I told them that they didn't need to stick around for my sake.

While waiting to see Bobby, I fall asleep on one of the waiting room chairs.

A little later, a medical assistant taps me awake. She introduces herself as Roshni, and escorts me back into that same family conference room.

Just as I think I'm about to be given more bad news, she points to the ugly couch. I notice a pillow and a couple of blankets set up.

"Sorry, it's the best I can do. But I think you should lay down and get some sleep." I gathered that it wasn't hospital policy, but Roshni didn't seem to care.

"Thank you," I tell her. My back probably wouldn't have lasted much longer in that chair.

A little later, she brings me a turkey sandwich and a carton of milk. I'm not very hungry, but I force it down. I have to remind myself sometimes that the baby needs it even if I don't.

She turns out the lights and leaves. I lay awake, mostly crying.

I know there are people to call. I figure that Logan and Barek will take care of telling those we work with. I'm also fairly certain that they told the guys to give me some space for a little while, otherwise there'd be constant phone calls and interruptions.

I'm not ready to face my family now. Or anyone else for that matter.

I don't know what to do. Some of this is still just sinking in.

I must have dozed off on that couch for at least a little while, because when the door opens, I startle awake.

It's Roshni again. She leaves the lights off, but comes over and sits down in the chair beside the couch. I slowly sit up and my eyes adjust to the limited florescent lighting pouring in from the hallway.

"Hi, sorry to wake you. But I know you want to see your husband."

"How is he?" I ask, as I swing my legs over toward the floor, rub my eyes and prepare to stand.

"No change. Very weak. He's drifting in and out. But I think it might help him if you're there."

I stand and she leads me out of the room and down a corridor, stopping near the end of the hall.

She turns to me. "I'll be right next door." She opens the door for me and steps aside to let me in.

The room is dark except for a reading light on the physician's stand in the corner.

All of the monitoring and feeding equipment is on the right side of his bed, so I wander toward the left side.

An oxygen mask covers his mouth and nose.

"Hi, sweetheart," I greet him. I slip my fingers under his palm.

He looks so lifeless. It's all I can do not to cry.

My love for Bobby has grown so significantly, and continues to every day. We haven't had the healthiest relationship, nor the easiest time starting out, but we have come so far.

What we have now is so incredibly deep. So real. So perfect.

He worries that he has complicated my life. But I think I'm a better person now for having been a part of his.

I wander out into the hallway in search of a chair. Roshni must have wandered off and there's no one in that part of the hall. In fact, it's very dark.

A fleeting thought crosses my mind as to how late it is, but I guess I don't really care enough to look. I don't plan to be anywhere else.

I finally find a chair in one of the lab rooms and drag it back into Bobby's room so I can sit beside him. I slip my fingers over his hand. Just before I start to feel sleep tugging at my eyes, he gives my hand a gentle squeeze.

It surprises me at first. "You awake?" I ask him. His eyes open just barely and then squeezes my hand again.

I smile back. "I love you."

After a minute or two, he quietly drifts back to sleep.

More time passes in silence. I lower my head, resting it a little below his pillow. I try falling asleep for a while, but I can't. The doctor's words keep replaying in my mind.

The tears start again.

After all of this, I could lose him. Months of doctors visits and chemo and surgeries and believing we'd somehow get through this…

Nothing was ever guaranteed.

The truth has never hurt so damn much.

I'll probably have to walk out of here pretty soon or I'll lose it. Either, I'll go off on the next doctor or hospital staff who comes in here, or I'll just fall apart.

But the next person to command my attention is not who I'd expect… There's a few light kicks just below my ribs.

Now, mind you, I'm still shaking like a leaf.

I sit up a little, turn toward my side and put my hand over my stomach, rubbing it gently. After a couple minutes, I'm actually starting to settle down.

"Hey sweetie," I say softly.

I absolutely love this kid. Not only because it's mine and Bobby's, but also because I seem to get these sweet little nudges when I'm about at my wits end.

My other hand—which is still holding Bobby's—gets a light squeeze. I glance over and see that his eyes are open. Even with my back to him, he seems to know where my attention is.

I turn back toward him and guide his hand to my stomach, placing it where he can feel the kicks.

Every night before we fall asleep, or anytime we lay together, Bobby's hand inevitably comes to rest on my stomach. He loves this baby so much. Really wants to be a father.

There's a few more kicks. It could just be me, but Bobby starts looking more alert after I put his hand there.

"That's your son," I announce. "We have a little boy."

But really, it shouldn't have to happen this way. This was supposed to be a happy moment. A surprise. We should be out celebrating.

Not sitting in a hospital room. Not worrying about a tumor that the hospital thinks is too risky to remove.

Right now, I don't think there's a limit to what I'd try, what I'd give up or what I'd pay to change the situation.

I can't lose him. I can't. Not after all of this.

And he has to see his son born—I can't even stand the thought of Bobby not being around for that.

I'm starting to cry again.

I'll admit, I'm not liking nor trusting his doctor very much.

After Bobby drifts back to sleep, I pull out my phone.

I'm shaking so much that I'm barely able to hold the phone, forget trying to read the display and search through my contacts.

Finally I find the name I need and hit the call button.

This person won't care if I'm not be able to speak too clearly.

The point is, they know his records backwards and forwards better than anyone, and they might be able to shed some light on this.

**_x x x _**

**_~Past~_**

"This wedding… It can wait until things settle down a bit," I say in the car as we're driving back to the apartment.

The dome light is on and he's busy looking at some pictures of me that my parents dug out and gave him. He's a little bit too amused by them for my liking. "What kind of wedding do you want?" he poses.

"Nothing big," I respond, glancing over toward the passenger side where he's absorbed in the stack. "You don't have to look at those, you know."

Without looking up, he starts chuckling.

"What do you plan to use them for? Revenge?"

"No," he replies, still smirking.

"That's not fair. I don't have any of yours."

"I haven't got that many. But you can pick out some if you want.

"Oh, how convenient! You'll just hide the ones you're ashamed of—"

He starts laughing a little harder. I glance over again and it's not at my comment—it's at the elf Halloween costume I wore when I was eleven.

"Will you put those away!"

"Alex… You were a beautiful child back then, and you're even more beautiful now."

"Thanks. But I'd still like them back."

He doesn't respond. Another picture gets a laugh out of him.

So I guess that's a no.

My dad's in deep trouble for this.

**_x_**

Moments later, we're back at home lounging on the couch.

I'm curled up in his lap, resting comfortably. Neither of us is saying much. I think there's a definite wind-down period after visiting with my family.

Everyone got a little high-strung after the proposal. The kids just fed off of the excitement, while the adults helped themselves to the champagne—which apparently was bought in celebration for us, but neither of us could touch it.

"I still can't believe that you and family had conspired this entire night without my knowledge."

Bobby just grins and shrugs.

"So what made you decide to..umm…?"

"Propose?" he answers for me.

"Well, I guess what I'm wondering is when you decided to do this tonight, and how you and my family came up with this…this master plan of yours."

"Well… It's been on my mind," he says, smiling and kissing my cheek. "Didn't think the time would ever be right. There was this one day at the hospital…" he reflects. "One day I told Morgan that I was going to be a father. I think she knew that um…babies come from a man and a woman…or…in her view from 'parents' but she obviously didn't know the…um…._'how.' _She still assumed that most people get married to have kids. She asks if we were married, or if I planned to marry you. I told her yes, but that I hadn't asked you yet. She was…very excited to hear this. She says, _'well, what are you waiting for? Ask her! Ask her!'" _Bobby explains, matching Morgan's cheery tone."Well, I told her I wanted the cancer gone, or at least under control. She just looks up at me and says, '_Why? Do you think it would stop her from wanting to marry you?'"_

I smile. "Well, she's right. It wouldn't."

"Yeah," he agrees, then hugs me a little tighter. "You mentioned wanting to…um…tell your family at dinner about the baby. I figured if I wanted this to happen, the best way to prove it is to make sure they supported it. So I decided to tell them everything. I decided to propose at dinner. They liked the idea. I wanted to tell your brothers, so I went and met James and Sean at the station and told them next."

"My brothers give you a hard time?" Because I can already picture that meeting.

He smirks, his expression shows me that they probably did. "No, not too bad," he chooses to say instead. "They love you. I guess I'd be just as protective if I were in their shoes. Anyway, everyone was very excited and agreeable to the plan. So…that just left the hardest one of all," he teases, giving me gentle squeeze.

"Why do you think I'd be so hard to convince?"

"Well. Because you've had to live with me."

"But I said yes."

He smiles. We sit there in comfortable silence for a couple of minutes.

"Any thoughts as to the kind of wedding you do want?" he asks me.

"I'm thinking of something small and intimate."

He stands, pulls me up from the couch and gives me that dark-eyed, sexy, Bobby glare.

"What?" I respond grinning, as I gaze up at him.

"What do you say we get an early start on that intimate part?" he teases, leading us toward the bedroom.

**_x_**

Well, I guess we couldn't wait for any of it.

About a month and a half later, Bobby and I went to the Catskills on an extended weekend, got married and then spent three incredible days at this gorgeous inn.

Honestly, we just lucked out on the place. There was a cancellation while we were making the arrangements for another date that was more than six months out. I guess the mood just hit us.

It was very romantic. Just us. Best weekend we've ever had. To be honest, I'm not sure we could have planned it any better, had we waited until the baby came.

My dad fought us on paying for it and won. We plan to have a real reception with friends and family at a later date.

Maybe part of the reason why we opted for the early wedding was because two weeks after he proposed, we got the the best early wedding gift of all—Bobby had had his first perfect x-ray.

No cancer.

We saw it as a sign of great things to come.

**_x x x _**

**_~Present~_**

I spend the rest of the night laying partially on his hospital bed. Just couldn't leave his side.

By morning, there's still no news. Nothing about his condition or what the hell they plan to do.

Fortunately, none of the morning hospital staff have tried to send me back to the waiting room. I'm pretty sure they thought about it, but no one's stupid enough to try.

He seems to have a little more color. At least I hope I'm not just imagining it.

Throughout the night, he'd awaken, gaze up at me and squeeze my hand, then drift back to sleep. Almost like he's checking to make sure I'm still there. I put his hand on my stomach whenever the baby starts kicking. I guess I'm hoping it helps.

At around 9:00am, I'm starting to feel the next round of drowsiness hit—like I might actually fall asleep for more than 20 minutes.

Suddenly, the door opens and in walks Nancy. She closes the door behind her.

"Hi, Nancy," I greet her sleepily.

"Hey, you two." She walks toward the side of the bed that I'm on, gives me a hug, and then reaches over me to hug Bobby. I start to get up, but she quickly waves her hand that it isn't necessary. "How's my boy?" she greets him affectionately, kissing his cheek. "Are they treating you okay, sweetie?" Bobby's eyes flutter open then close again, but I'm not sure if he sees her.

I love that she treats him more like a son than a patient. Right now, I think she's the best hope we have.

Her eyes drift over to mine quickly, then back to Bobby's.

"So what did you find out?" I ask her.

"Well, the tumor is causing a lot of complications. There are a couple of options. He stays here, and they'll monitor it. Probably start some radiation to try to reduce the size and go from there. The next option is to transfer him out and have a specialist remove it."

"His doctor thinks he won't survive more trauma," I remark.

"Dr. Leslie and Dr. Borris have been going rounds on the phone over this since last night," she remarks, rolling her eyes. Dr. Leslie is his primary physician at Brooklyn Cancer Center and Dr. Borris is treating him here.

Knowing Nancy, she probably had spent her entire night shift stuck somewhere in the middle of that battle. I always feel a little guilty for calling her during the day because I know she sleeps most of the morning. And yet, I know I'd be in bigger trouble with her if I _hadn't_ called her.

"Dr. Borris seems to think Bobby has a diseased heart because of his x-ray," she tells me. "Bobby's got some weakness from the chemo and the heart attack could have been stress induced. But you know I've been hounding him about this," she says sternly, wagging a finger in his direction while he sleeps. "And over the past few months, his LDLs are down, HDLs look better, he's dieting and exercising, and he hasn't smoked."

"You think he should have the surgery?" I really do trust Nancy. She was an ER nurse for over 20 years before she started working with cancer patients. Plus, I know she wouldn't give her professional opinion unless she felt confident in doing so.

"It's still a risky procedure," she asserts, meeting my eyes and making absolutely certain that I understand the weight of her words. "But I think his odds are better if you transfer him out. Since you asked me to look into it, I've already sent his x-rays and his medical records to a specialist I know in Albany. He's the best. You'll have to sign your lives away in paperwork. The next issue is insurance—I can pretty much guarantee you that a lot of it won't be covered, but there may be some payment options."

"I'll get loans if I have to, and I've got my former husband's pension as collateral," I respond, finally feeling a sense of hope.

Strangely, right at that moment Bobby squeezes my hand. I turn around and notice his eyes open. He gazes up at her, seeming to notice her presence. He smiles, his eyes roam back over to me.

"Just need your okays and we'll arrange to transfer him to Albany General," Nancy concludes.

Like I said, I trust her. "You've got it."

Bobby's eyes open a little more.

I kiss his cheek and smile.

Maybe I'm saying it for him. Maybe it's for the both of us…

"You're going to get to see your son."

**_x x x _**

**TBC…**

**A/N... For those of you who didn't expect the surprise about Bobby and Alex… I had Logan leave a '****_little_****' hint at the end of chapter 8. And yes, most of us don't use that phrase anymore, but he was only teasing Bobby when he said it. It's the only way I could think of to sneak this in…hehehehehehe! ;) **

**Will update this as quickly as possible. I work full-time and am in grad school, so I'm crazy busy but really do love writing. It's more of a treat to update, so I'll keep working as much as I can. **


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N… Hey all. Sorry again for the delays. Didn't think it would happen and I hate that it has. I do have to be in the right frame of mind to work on this. You writers out there know what it's like when the story just doesn't flow the way you want it to. **

**In the interim, I wrote a post-ep one-shot to SVU's Acceptable Loss, which is entitled (appropriately) 'Unacceptable Loss.' It **_**is**_** LOCI! Just trying to bring our favorite duo back together. **** It is complete and I would love to know what you think! Anyone reading Turbulence…no I haven't forgotten that one. Will be updated soon. Also just added a new SVU fic called 'Take Cover', if you're into that sort of thing. **

****Note…We're fast forwarding 3 months ahead from the last chapter. Flipping back and forth between past and present (as is my usual style) so you'll know what happened. One more chapter after this. **

_**x x x **_

**Alex's POV**

_**~3 months later…**_

I awaken and lift my head up from the arm of the couch. Glancing over at the clock on the wall, it takes a couple of seconds for my eyes to focus on the time.

Finally, I decide that I need to get up to check because I can't decide if I'm seeing it right.

That, of course, takes some time. I'm about a week shy of my due date. "Come on, kid…" I say toward my stomach, as I push myself up from the couch cushion.

I'm sure I probably needed the mid-afternoon nap, even though it'll throw off my sleep schedule.

But that's starting to matter less and less, now that I'm on maternity leave.

I really do miss the work. I miss Major Case. Some habits are hard to break.

_Once a cop, always a cop. _

But I love this little boy I'm carrying. Love the idea of being a mom.

When I finally see the clock, I breathe a sigh of relief—only 4:10. "For a moment, I thought we overslept, sweetie," I say, patting my stomach.

Dinner plans are for 5:30. So there should be enough time for a quick shower and to fix myself up a bit. So I should be there on time, if traffic is no worse than usual.

Forty-five minutes later, I finish getting ready, check myself in the mirror once more, and grab my jacket.

_But of course, as I'm out the door…_

And I mean, I had _just_ finished checking the handle to make sure it's locked.

"Just like clockwork huh, baby?" I tell him, laughing as I'm pulling the keys back out.

I swear this kid waits until I have to go somewhere, and then starts kicking my bladder.

"Oh well… At least you caught mommy before we got stuck sitting in traffic."

_**x x x **_

_**~Past~**_

There are events and moments in life that we wish we could permanently block out.

Bobby's surgery, plus all of the hours before, during and after it is over, are no exception.

The trip to Albany General felt longer than it might have actually been.

Even before we are set to leave, there are a million things to be done.

I remain at Bobby's side at New York Medical. Hospital and admin staff file in and out of his room, with clipboards of paperwork and assorted lab tests, preparing for his transfer to Albany.

It's all too much. My mind is only on Bobby, and whether or not I'd made the right move.

The tears are constant, and only made worse by the reminders from the medical staff of Bobby's weakened state and his poor prognosis.

_The thought of losing Bobby after all of this… _ Needless to say, I could hardly focus on anything being asked of me.

_Sure as hell couldn't fill out any more paperwork. _

The forms seem to get longer, and the print, smaller.

I knew Bobby's entire medical history at this stage, but I couldn't write a damn thing. Couldn't see a damn thing. The tears just wouldn't stop.

So Nancy helps. She'd fire off questions to me, and we eventually had the required forms out of the way.

By the time all of the preparatory stuff is done, it's early evening. Bobby's surgery is scheduled for the next afternoon. An ambulance would be taking us to Albany General, and we were set to leave within the hour.

Convinced that I hadn't eaten a thing all day, Nancy sits by me with a plate of chopped steak, creamed corn and rice pilaf and feeds it to me.

I'm sure it's probably fine. But to my pregnant taste buds, it was the worst thing I had ever eaten. I threw it up somewhere en route to Albany. The motion sickness that hit just before we were out of the city, probably didn't help much either.

But at long last, we were on our way. For most of the trip, my head lay resting against Bobby. And aside from a couple moments where I dozed off, my eyes were on him.

He looked so pale, so weak. I kept hoping for a change or something to let me know I'd done the right thing.

At some point during the trip, I realize that I didn't have any clothes packed. I could easily be there for a couple of days.

Once again, Nancy comes to the rescue. I wound up with three maternity outfits and some travel items. I would guess that she had contacted one of my family members, and had them pack a bag for me and bring it with them to New York Medical. Since Bobby and I were already on our way, she made arrangements to come up and brought the bag with her.

I had quickly lost count of the number of things I owe her for.

We arrive in Albany late and Bobby's taken into one of the rooms. Against a number of protests, I stayed with him until the morning. Very little chance they were going to kick out a pregnant woman in hysterics anyway.

Nancy arrives that morning with my bag of clothes. She drives me to a motel near the hospital, and I check into a room, shower and change clothes. Little chance I'd be sleeping there, but I had a place to shower and change.

The next thing I do, is start calling anyone who would have needed an update.

Logan and my sister Liz had left at different times and were already on their way.

The rest of my siblings will come up when they can.

I hadn't expected to have so many people around me. Really didn't know how to deal with any of this on my own. I was still stuck in that seemingly endless fog.

And just when I thought I had exhausted the paper trail, another round of clipboards with forms are hurled at me.

Some of these forms were just so the doctors could talk to each other.

The specialist comes in to meet with me privately.

Then, the hospital administrator.

Once again, even though I wasn't up for it, I get the same set of dreary facts thrown at me followed by their routine hospital questions…

_Is his will current?_

Yes. Everything left to me, and a trust fund for his son.

_Does he have a living will?_

No, he left that decision up to me.

_Does he have a religious affiliation?_

Catholic… _Lapsed catholic._ Then I am talked into having last rites performed.

_Father Gavin will be here at 3pm. _

I don't care if it's routine for Catholics. It's something I don't want to even think about.

Then 4:00 arrives, and Bobby's brought in for surgery. I'm finally forced to take a seat in the waiting room. Logan and Liz sit on either side of me.

The best news so far was that Nancy would be assisting in the procedure. Didn't know how she managed to set that up, but I was grateful. She was an ER nurse for a number of years and I knew Bobby would be in good hands.

So all that's left to do…is wait.

_**x x x **_

_**~Present~**_

I walk back in a little before 8:30pm, and I'm relieved to be home.

It's not that I don't enjoy dinner with the folks. Sometimes it's just too much company. Too much attention. Too much hovering. Everyone worrying and fussing over me.

The past several months of this pregnancy have been very difficult.

And lonely at times. Especially being out on leave.

But I don't want people hovering. I need my space and to get ready for this baby.

I plop down on the couch, reach for the remote and a moment later, there's a knock at the door.

I don't have to check, because I already know who it is.

I open the door, and smile.

"Just checking on my favorite pregnant cop," Logan says lightly. In one arm, he's carrying a large paper bag with handles.

"You know you don't have to…"

He steps inside, wraps his free arm around me and hugs me, then continues toward the counter. "Yeah, but I was in the neighborhood…"

"Liar," I fire back. Because we both know he wasn't. I close the door behind him and follow. "Okay, so what did you bring me?"

"Dinner for you and Goren Junior," he chuckles, eyeing my pregnant stomach and removing the take-out bag of Chinese food from inside the larger bag. He takes out the last item in the bag—a six-pack of beer and says, "…and _a little something for me._"

"You're not going to drink that in front of me," I protest, eyeing the beer in his hand.

But he already has a bottle open and is steadily chugging it down.

He stops about half way, releases a spirited sigh. "Well…I don't want to anger a pregnant woman by leaving a half-open bottle of beer sitting around so I guess I'd better finish it," he answers smugly.

"Logan!"

"Wait a week, and maybe there'll be some left," he teases, setting his bottle down so he could put the remaining beer bottles in the refrigerator.

"I'll be nursing."

"Then I'll have something to drink when I come over to pay you both a visit."

I shake my head, chuckling as I begin sifting through the bag of Chinese food. "Do you want any of this?" I offer, since I'd already eaten.

He shakes his head.

"Why did you bring me food anyway? I had dinner with my folks tonight. Thought I mentioned that when you called earlier." I pull out a large container of rice and a couple of containers that have 'beef' written on one and 'pork' on the other. I shove everything into the refrigerator.

"You probably did and I forgot," he replies.

I wander over to where he is and look him in the eye. "You don't have to keep coming by and checking on me…"

He shrugs. "Yeah…_but…_"

"But…_what?"_

"I promised him, I would."

_**x x x**_

_**~Past~**_

The waiting area at Albany General is more of an alcove just off the main corridor, in the middle of a busy floor.

A few patient rooms, a nurse's station and a lab room were on either side of the waiting area. It faces two elevators.

The waiting room itself has a horseshoe arrangement of brown vinyl chairs, with an assortment of kids toys, books and magazines. Somewhere close by there's a jazz music station playing, but it keeps cutting in and out.

I doze off at some point. When I awaken, it's dark. Probably starting to get late. My sister is curled up in one of the corner chairs fast asleep. Logan is asleep with his head reclining back resting against the wall.

Probably both still groggy from the drive. I can only sleep in short stretches of time.

I am laying across three chairs with my head on a pillow and my legs resting in the seat beside Logan. My guess is that one or both of them thought I would be better off lying down rather than sitting up. So they waited until I was asleep and then put me here.

Being asleep or awake is really all the same at this stage. Sleep just makes the time go by a little faster.

And except for the bad dreams, I wouldn't have minded…

_I'm back in the city. Not sure how or why I'm there, but Bobby's still in Albany and I'm trying desperately to get back to him. _

_First, my car wouldn't start. I couldn't get a bus, a flight, or even track down a friend to take me. So I rent a car and drive there, but I somehow wind up in a different city entirely. I can't figure out the roads, or why I'd gotten so lost. Can't reach the hospital on my phone, which has intermittent signal and battery. My eyes are so blurred from crying that I can't see where I'm going._

_I lose control of the car, and it crashes into a tree. _

The dream ends as I'm being shaken awake by Logan. I'm crying and he is trying to console me.

I might have been talking in my sleep, or at least crying enough to draw attention. Because when I open my eyes, several of the visitors and staff are throwing sympathy glances in my direction as though they know something is wrong.

"Shhhh… It was just a bad dream," Logan tells me continually.

But I'm not yet convinced… "I can't lose him. I can't…" I tell him, still short of breath and weeping. "He's got to see his baby…"

"You know he wants to. You and that baby are what he's fighting for."

I nod, trying to get the tears under control.

"Come on…" he says. He extends his arm under my legs and starts to lift me up into his arms.

"Wha-? Logan, what are you…doing?" I react, confused.

He stands, still holding me in his arms, and begins walking.

"Where are you…taking me?"

"We're going to get some air."

"Where's Liz?" I ask. I glance all around, not seeing a sign of my sister.

"She went to get her phone charger from the car. She'll be back."

"Logan!…Put me down, I can walk!"

"Yeah… _But isn't this easie_r?" he comments smirking.

"Not for you, it isn't!"

"I'm fine, and you're not that heavy... _Both of you," _ he adds with a smirk.

I figure I'm not going to win this one, so I hold onto his shoulders and let him carry me.

We get on the elevator and exit several floors later. He turns a corner, continues down a hallway, then makes another turn. I didn't have the slightest idea where we are, but Logan seems to know exactly where he's going. We exit out a door and we're on the roof deck of the hospital. Looks like a lounging area for hospital staff. Outside sconces attached to a utilities building that is twenty feet away from the door just we exited. There are benches along that same wall with ash trays in between. There's also a pretty nice view of the Albany skyline.

"Uh… What are we doing up here?" I ask him again.

"Getting some air," he answers.

"Why here?"

"You think I've never been up here before? I know all the best spots," he answers dryly.

I glance down at the concrete pad where he's standing. "You can put me down if you're uncomfortable."

"You think I can't support you and that kid you're carrying?" he scoffs. "You're light as a feather."

"Why do you know _this_ place?" I inquire curiously.

"I…umm…visited someone here once."

"_Someone?_" I repeat.

"She…uh…was having surgery," he replies nervously.

"_Oh…? _Someone significant?" I assume.

"Just…_someone_. Met her in Staten Island. She was brought up here for the procedure."

"So what happened with you two?"

"Umm… Can we not discuss it?" he requests.

I honor his request. Probably a relationship that didn't work out.

A minute later, with both of us not saying much, I pose a different question that I assume is less intrusive. "How did her surgery go?" I figure we're up here to take my mind off of Bobby, but I'm grasping at straws here.

"How about this view," Logan says, changing the subject entirely. He gestures toward the skyline. "Pretty nice, huh? Air is much cleaner."

Guess that settles that. When my head turns, he shifts me in his arms, to get more comfortable.

The air had cooled down quite a bit for a summer night. Not that I'd been paying much attention to the weather lately. Then again, we are a couple hours north of home.

I huddle closer for warmth, resting my head against his shoulder and we quietly gaze out at the city.

It's fairly calm up here. The traffic below us is present but hardly more than background noise. If there's a difference in the air here versus back home, I'm not noticing it. Maybe it's just me.

I take in the unfamiliar sights and try to clear my head. I'm not in any frame of mind to look on the bright side. But I can find the occasional distraction.

At some point I turn and see a light sheen of tears in his eyes.

Then all of a sudden, it hits me.

"I'm so sorry," I tell him quietly. "She must have meant a lot to you."

The somber expression in his eyes remains. "It's not the time to bring that up."

"I understand," I tell him.

He blots his eyes. "I'm sorry…"

"Logan, you don' t have to apologize."

"I wanted…t-to keep it together…"

"Nothing wrong with missing someone." Watching him is causing me to tear up again.

"It's not just about_ her_… It's about Bobby and you and…" he admits quietly, his voice starting to break in a way that has me quickly losing any composure I might have had. "You two are like family to me," he adds tearfully.

"You are too."

"If you ever need anything…" He barely gets his words out, he's so upset.

"Thank you." Lifting my head a little, I give him a peck on the cheek.

I glance again at the city lights, which are starting to look like incandescent blobs.

Then I turn my head toward his shoulder, and cry heavily.

_**x x**_

**~Present~**

Standing in the kitchen, I look Logan firmly in the eyes. "We're fine."

"You sure?"

"Yeah," I respond, fanning my hands to shoe him out. "Now finish your beer and go."

"You're kicking me out?" he pouts.

"I just got back from my folks place, I need to unwind and change out of these clothes."

"Don't let me stop you…" he says with a smirk.

"Logan!"

"Okay, okay…" He downs the rest of his beer in a couple of gulps and sets the empty bottle on the counter.

"Thanks for the Chinese. I'll have it for lunch tomorrow."

"Anytime." He leans over and gives me a kiss on the cheek. "Night, cookie monster."

Rolling my eyes, I yell back when he's halfway out the door, "Stop calling me that!"

"Not a chance," Logan fires back smugly. "I'll call ya tomorrow."

"Goodnight."

When he's gone, I laugh. One day he noticed that my cabinets were stocked with about 12 different packages of cookies to satisfy my pregnancy cravings, and I haven't been able to live that one down.

Since it crosses my mind, I wander over to the cabinets and pull out a package of mint Oreos and the jar of peanut butter, then go toward the couch. Opening the jar, I dunk one of my Oreos and take a bite.

I settle back on the couch and relax.

Logan has been great. Even though I'll shoe him out so I can be alone, just as I did tonight, I am glad to see him. I know he worries about me. We've gotten close through all of this. I love him like a brother and appreciate the bond we have.

_**x x x **_

_**~Past~**_

A few hours pass with no news. I drift in and out of sleep in short cycles.

The bad dreams are constant.

_In one dream, I'm sitting by Bobby's hospital bed. He's awake, but not very responsive. The doctor has concerns about some elevated toxin levels in his blood stream. They think there may be another mass in his liver, but he's too weak to handle more surgery. They're monitoring him for the time being._

"_Y-you're going to be okay," I tell him. It's all I can do not to cry. _

_He's so frail. His skin coloring is so pale it's almost grayish. He's shaking. His breathing becoming more and more of a challenge. _

_He doesn't say much. There's almost a vacant gaze in those dark eyes. The once inquisitive, intense, energetic Bobby Goren, just isn't there._

_I'm told to let him rest. But I can't bring myself to leave his side._

"_Alex…I can't d-do this any…more," he tells me softly. It's such a struggle for him to speak. I know he's in pain and it's killing me._

"_Can't do what, Sweetheart?" I ask him tearfully. _

"_S-s-surgery… N-nno m-more."_

"_We don't know what they're going to do. Just hang in there, baby…" I tell him. "It's going to be okay."_

_The idea of putting him through more treatment and more surgeries just didn't seem fair._

_But I couldn't let him go. Not now. Not ever._

_His breathing becomes slower and more labored. He lifts his hand and sets it on my abdomen where our son rests. "I l-love you b-both…s-so much."_

"_We love you too."_

_Then his eyes close. He takes a couple quick breaths, then stops. His head lists to the side and the machine beside his bed sends out a solid tone._

_**x x x **_

_**~4 months before present~**_

We had a private wedding at a cabin in upstate New York. He caught me by complete surprise with the whole wedding proposal during dinner with my family.

On one hand, we didn't have to rush into it.

Having heard the news that he was cancer free, we got a little swept up in the moment.

It ended up being so incredibly romantic, a lot of fun, and easily one of the best weekends ever.

Some of the arrangements happened without any forethought—the flowers, the wedding dress, his tuxedo, the rings.

We made up our own wedding vows on the spot. It was very sweet and from the heart. We fumbled through our words at times, because we were nervous and unprepared. But even that made us laugh.

And of course, there were a lot of very sweet, emotional moments.

There really wasn't a reception or dinner planned. We were staying at this mountain resort with all of the rooms being these private, one-room cabins. Since the dinner menu at the resort's restaurant sounded good, we opted to eat there with the rest of the guests.

We couldn't avoid sharing some of the circumstances of our impromptu wedding with the facility's staff before we got here. And they asked a lot of questions.

Truthfully, we really didn't want to dwell on the past. The weekend was all about our commitment to each other, our love, our baby and our future.

Needless to say, a resort staff that prides itself on romance would easily fall in love with a story like ours.

Two New York City cops who fell in love while one of them was undergoing treatment for cancer.

Then the cancer is gone, there's a romantic wedding proposal and a baby on the way.

Bobby kept telling people that he wouldn't be cancer-free if it wasn't for me.

The staff just ate that right up.

So the chef added a wedding cake to the menu with the words, _'Congratulations, Robert and Alexandra Goren'_ scripted in the icing. They even brought out their best champagne.

Not only did they refuse to add anything extra to our bill, the owner gave us a complementary bottle of wine and a free night's stay as a wedding gift. We definitely plan to come back.

Dinner became a make-shift wedding reception with all the guests helping us celebrate. Everyone was so nice. By the end of the night, we even exchanged contact information with this couple from Buffalo, who wanted to meet us for dinner the next time they were in the city.

A member of the staff took pictures of the wedding, the cake, our reception and of us dancing together. The DJ played the same song we danced to near that concert in the park, the night I broke the news to Bobby about my pregnancy.

We retreat to our cabin after it was over. Mid-spring in upstate New York was still rather cold at night. Bobby starts a fire in the fireplace, and we make love.

We generally had to take things slower and more carefully than we wanted to.

But making love still exceeds all our expectations. The place was perfect.

Whenever I close my eyes, I can still see the glow from that fireplace, the cabin, the candles. The windy night took care of any concerns we had over how much noise we were making.

We spent most of the weekend alone in our cabin.

We talked, laughed, and fell deeper and deeper in love.

We ordered room service, and even had two of the spa staff come to our cabin to give us private massages. We also went on a couple of short hikes.

Everything about that weekend was perfect.

_**x x x**_

_**~Past~**_

_The solid tone from the machine beside his bed is almost piercing._

"_Bobby? Bobby? No! Oh…God!" Sitting there by his bedside, I'm crying hysterically. _

_Then suddenly, I'm being shaken awake. _

_I'm back in the hospital waiting room. To my right is Nancy. She's squatting down on the floor beside me. My sister is just waking up and Logan is sitting behind me. I might have been leaning against him._

_Nancy's eyes are so full of tears. "I'm so sorry, sweetie… It was too much for him."_

"_Wha—?"_

"_He's like a son to me. You've got to know that."_

_Finally I push the words out. "Wh-what happened?"_

_She's shaking her head slowly. "He fought so hard, for so long…" she responds, starting to cry harder._

"_What's going on?" Logan inquires, his voice sounding as though he had just woken up._

_I'm numb. I know what she's telling me, but I can't process it yet."_

"_I'm very sorry," Nancy answers Logan._

_His arms wrap around me suddenly. My sister Liz moves in to comfort me. _

"_NO!" I finally blurt out as the tears start. My body starts to shake. "No! No! No! NOOOOO! Oh God….Bobby!"_

"Alex…?"

"_No!"_

"Alex, sweetie…?"

"_No!" I can't even accept that news. "NO!"_

"Alex! Wake up!"

"_Oh God…Bobby!"_

"ALEX!"

My eyelids flutter open, and I take in my surroundings.

And now…I know this isn't a dream.

Although, coincidentally… Squatting down on the floor beside me…is Nancy.

My heart starts pounding fiercely, wondering what news she's brought me.

The only thing different about this image, is that my brother-in-law Toby has since arrived. He's reading a book, and Liz is curled up in the chair beside him, sound asleep.

Toby sets his book down and nudges Liz awake when he sees Nancy there.

"_I-is he…okay?"_ I ask nervously.

"He made it through the surgery," she says. "Still not yet breathing on his own. It may take some time and he'll be monitored closely for the next few hours. He's through the hard part and he did very well," she says assuredly, starting to smile.

"Ohmygod," I say, breathing a sigh of relief.

"How is he?" Liz inquires as she stands and stretches.

Nancy repeats the news.

"That's wonderful! Alex, I'll call the others."

"Thanks, Liz."

I reach for Nancy and we hug.

"I'm so happy for you two…" she pauses then corrects her words, "you three."

"Can I see him?"

"Soon. I'll let you know."

_**x x**_

At least 12 hours pass before anyone returns. Bobby is listed as critical—which is something Nancy neglected to tell me. Most likely, she didn't want to worry me.

Finally, I'm allowed to see him. At that time, he's not yet awake.

Might just be me, but his color is definitely returning and he's looking much better.

It's another day before his condition is listed as stable. I'm brought in for more paperwork and instructions about his release.

I know the cancer might return. It's always going to be a possibility. But it's not something I want to focus on right then.

The next bit of good news comes when he's awake and breathing on his own.

It's still a struggle and he's not really able to talk. I didn't care, because I just wanted to be with him.

I sit there holding his hand. His eyes drift from my eyes, to my swollen belly and back to me again.

"I love you, sweetie," I tell him.

He gives my hand a squeeze. His eyes drift back to my stomach, lingering at the place where his son rests. There is so much contentment in him. I move his hand over to touch my stomach.

"I want you to pick his name," I tell him.

He shakes his head and points to me.

"Not me. You," I insist.

We go back and forth at this for a while before he realizes I'm not going to budge on my decision.

"You at least have some ideas…" I remind him.

Nodding, he settles on the one he seems to like the best. "Jeremy."

_**x x x**_

_**~Present~**_

I watch TV on the couch, dozing off a little every so often. I awaken as I hear the key in the lock and the front door opens.

Bobby enters carrying an arrangement of flowers in his hand. He squats down beside the couch and offers them to me with an affectionate smile. "For you."

"Thank you, sweetheart," I lean over and kiss him, accepting the flowers. "How was the first week back?"

"You know I hate riding desk," Bobby asserts. "But it's great to be back." He kisses me again. "Nice to be home with you too," he says sweetly.

He gets up a minute later, takes the flowers from me and goes to put them in a vase. Then he wanders over to the fridge. "How was dinner with the folks?"

"Good. They send their hellos. My mom is very disappointed that you couldn't come."

"Yeah, I'm sorry too. Things ran a little later than expected."

"So what happened with the suspect?" I ask, referring to the case he is assisting with.

"Logan's been here…" he observes, eyeing the beers in the refrigerator.

"You're the one who wanted him to keep an eye on me…" I remark.

"Yeah, but I meant for him to see if _you_ needed anything." Bobby grabs a bottle, closes the refrigerator and comes back over to me with it open.

"Great, so now you're going to drink in front of me, too?" I complain.

"Sorry… But _really_ I need this," he replies, lifting the bottle up for a sip. He lowers it a moment later. "The suspect wouldn't give up any names," Bobby responds to my question. He shakes his head uncertainly. "I don't think he knows anything about the robbery, but they want me to keep at him."

I sit up a bit more. "Wait! They've got you on interrogation? You didn't tell me that!"

"Yeah, sure beats paperwork." He boasts, taking another pull from his beer.

They didn't release Bobby from Albany General for a few weeks after his surgery. There were a few post-surgery complications, including a build-up of fluid in his lungs. The situation was even starting to look a little grim.

Plus, they didn't like the way his lungs were healing and decided to try some additional treatments. With my due date getting closer, my doctor didn't want me traveling much. It kept us apart, which I hated.

I fought with them because I thought he'd be better off if they transferred him somewhere closer to home. But I lost out. They waited until he could get through the night without intervention, before they released him.

And as I expected, when he was finally able to come home, he seemed to recover much more quickly.

Then they cleared him for work. But doctor's orders were to limit him to desking. He has regular check-ups and everything seems to be going fine. They'll probably keep him on desk for a little longer. He is already exercising and really doing great.

I shake my head. "That's not fair," I protest, wishing I had more options than paperwork as I was getting closer to maternity leave.

As far as Bobby is concerned, maybe he can handle it with someone there as back up. Maybe he doesn't even need that.

Sure, I'm happy that he's recovering so quickly. I just worry.

Pausing before he takes another sip, he adds. "Pregnant women shouldn't be left in a room alone with perps."

"Pregnant women shouldn't be left in a room alone with paperwork _either_," I fire back dryly.

He chuckles. "Sorry, honey." He sits down on the coffee table across from me. Then he sets his beer down beside him and then places his hands on my knees. He gently nudges them apart and moves himself closer, giving me that dark-eyed, sexy, mischievous gaze of his.

"What?" I ask, blushing. Can't help it, I'm smitten.

He slides his hands over my knees, edging toward my thighs. Scooting himself closer, he simply says, "I've missed you." He gestures with his finger for me to come closer and our lips meet.

The kiss begins slowly. His hands continually caress over my legs, then toward my ass and up my sides.

Earlier, I changed into a pair of stretch pants and one of Bobby's old button-up shirts. My feet were bare. While I hate the cliché of barefoot and pregnant, I'm more comfortable this way. Besides that, Bobby seems to love my feet.

I'm losing myself in the kiss. He slips his hands up under the shirt that I'm wearing, releasing a pleased sigh when he realizes I'm not wearing a bra.

Bobby does this thing with his fingers where he skims over the top of my breasts in this very teasing way. I'm completely under his spell. I think he could make me do almost anything at that point.

We haven't had sex in so long because of Bobby's recovery. It's only within the last few days that we were told that we should be okay to resume sexual activity, as long as we take it slow and he continues to use a condom. It's mostly as a precaution.

Bobby's been fighting a cold too. So while we are excited about the chance to have sex again, we didn't push it right away.

And besides…I'm a little too close to my due date. It would probably be a little too complicated and awkward to attempt sex.

But Bobby shows no signs of backing down… He begins unbuttoning my shirt, slipping the shirt over my shoulders, then starts trying to remove my pants.

"Umm…" I interject, figuring he temporarily lost consciousness on the way home and really wasn't planning for us to have sex at this stage in my pregnancy.

Bobby just lifts his eyes up at me pitifully as if to say, _'You don't mean to stop me, do you?'_ When I don't comment, he resumes trying to get the waist band over my ass, which is difficult enough while I'm sitting there.

I start laughing at his attempts, but only because it takes me a while to get these things off too.

"Laugh all you want, I'm not stopping." He gives this bashful grin and continues.

There's still a little hesitancy on my part. "Yeah, but, look at me. I'm…" I shake my head and gesture to my enlarged stomach, "I'm so big right now, ready to pop."

"Yeah, well…" He glances down at his groin, then up at me sheepishly. "Me too."

It temporarily kills the mood, but I can't help it. I double over laughing. He soon joins me.

When the laughter fades, I'm still eyeing him with uncertainty. So maybe I'm a bit self-conscious.

"You think I don't want to make love to you because…_you're pregnant…?" _he realizes.

"I-I…"

"You think you're…_less attractive? _You think I want you…_any less…?_" He shakes his head like he doesn't believe it.

"I just…" my eyes start to tear up and then I sniffle. _Damn these hormones._

"Do you know how awkward and ugly I felt going through chemo?"

"You weren't ugly or awkward to me," I respond without a thought. Women are supposed to worry about these things. I'm not prone to obsessing, but I feel a little more awkward and unattractive than usual.

"I lost my hair. I had a rash, shakes, sweats, I couldn't have been attractive to anyone."

I know what he's getting at, but I still feel awkward.

He smiles, then touches the spot where his son is. "The fact that you're carrying our son makes you more beautiful to me. But with or without a swollen belly, you're still you. You're everything I want."

_Since he put it that way… _I let him lower me onto the couch. Sex is slow, tantalizing and incredible. We somehow made it back to the bedroom and continued.

Guess I shouldn't be surprised… Typical, calculating, Bobby Goren had it all mapped out how this would work. Gotta love him.

And naturally, I do.

_**x x**_

I awaken in the middle of the night. Bobby's sound asleep with one arm draped over me.

As is typical, I have to get up to pee.

I lift his arm off of me, shift toward the edge of the bed and swing my legs over onto the floor.

A few paces further and I'm in the bathroom. I finish up and as I hit the light switch and start back toward the room, a familiar feeling hits.

_Oh God…_

Instantly weak, I grip the edge of the sink and glance down at the floor.

"BOBBY!"

As I yell his name a couple more times, the contractions start.

"What?"

"He's coming," I groan.

"Let's go."

Bobby throws on a few more clothes, helps me into a wrap and hustles us toward the car.

No argument about who will do the driving this time.

Once we're on the road, the contractions hit with a vengeance. I'm trying to time them, but all I can think about is the pain. Bobby's trying to rush us there and I'm squirming and yelling the entire way.

We pull up at the emergency room entrance, someone hurries over with a wheelchair and Bobby momentarily disappears. I know he's parking the car, but several minutes after they've wheel me into the delivery room, Bobby still hasn't arrived.

I'm getting impatient, and of course, so is our baby—the contractions are getting closer together.

I start to worry that he'll miss this, until Bobby appears dressed in those hospital-issued scrubs. He leans in toward me, taking one of my hands in his, and wrapping the other arm around me he nuzzles close. Not sure how long I'll be comfortable with this arrangement, before I shove Bobby aside, my arms start flailing and I'm begging for drugs.

For now, I don't want him anywhere else.

"Alright, she's fully dilated," the doctor says.

Bobby and I exchange one more glance.

"Okay, Alex…now! Push!"

_**x**_

Moments later in that delivery room, my persistent grunts, curses and cries are cut off by the sound of our son's first cries.

All eyes are on Jeremy the moment he's out. Bobby reaches around me and cuts the umbilical cord, then Jeremy is brought over to be cleaned up.

My eyes finally drift over from Jeremy to Bobby…

It was the most endearing thing I've ever seen. Bobby's eyes are still focused on his son, and he has the biggest smile on his face… There are tears streaming down his cheeks like something inside of him just broke apart.

"Oh, sweetheart," I respond, leaning in toward him.

There were moments we thought he wouldn't be around to see this day. I think it might have been more of an embedded belief for Bobby than me. Because I refused to give up on this.

_But seeing him now… Like this… _

I dare anyone to stand by and watch this man get the chance to hold his son for the first time, and not tear up.

"He's so beautiful," Bobby manages finally. Leaning over, he kisses me. "Thank you. Oh…Alex…"

I don't think anyone would quite believe this is _the same_ Bobby Goren if they saw him now.

The same Detective Goren…who would turn to mush at the sight of his 8 pound, 4 ounce, baby boy.

The nurse approaches carrying him. "He is beautiful," she says, looking at him. "And you did great, Alex," she says to me.

"Thanks."

"Let's go see your mom," she says to our son.

She starts toward my side of the bed, but I stop her. "G-g-give him to his dad first," I tell her, still crying.

So she does.

And yes, I am loving the hell out of this moment.

Bobby takes him from her. He kisses Jeremy on his forehead and nuzzles his cheek.

Jeremy stretches and coos softly in his arms, then settles in.

"M-my boy… I w-wanted t-to meet you…so much. I love you. I love you…"

I see his eyes finally glance over at me. I think he worries that he's keeping me from seeing him. So he hands the boy to me.

Soon after, he gets into the bed to be closer to both of us.

We end up nestling him between us. Each of us taking one of his little hands. We kiss the little boy. We kiss each other.

Jeremy's eyes flutter open a little here and there, like he's grabbing little glances at us.

His eyes finally close and he's sound asleep.

The drain of it all hits me at some point. Not to mention it's the middle of the night. I doze off before too long.

_**x x**_

When I awaken, I'm still in the hospital and Bobby is fast asleep in the bed beside me. I don't see Jeremy, so I assume they took him to the nursery.

I glance at the door, realizing someone is coming in. One of the medical assistants is standing in the doorway holding him.

"He's hungry," she says to me. "Are you ready for his first feeding?"

Still groggy, it takes me a moment to realize what she's saying. I nod, and she brings him to me.

She leaves to give me some privacy, so I shift him in my arms and try to get him to feed. He doesn't seem to want to take it. After a few minutes, I'm starting to get frustrated and he's losing interest.

I glance up as the door starts opening yet again. Although this time, the person who walks in is not someone I'd expected…

"_Dr. James…?" _

My OB/GYN smiles back. "Hi sweetie! I got the page and I was already here. Just wanted to see how you two are doing." She wanders in to see us, her grin widening when she sees the sleeping baby in my arms. "And how are you, baby?" she says to him.

"He's precious," she says to me after a minute. "How are you feeling, Alex?"

"Tired and a little weak, but okay. Umm… What are you doing here this late?" I ask in confusion.

"Oh… Just visiting my father-in-law. He's on the fifth floor. Just had bypass surgery and he's in recovery."

"How's he doing?"

"Okay, but high maintenance," she chuckles, rolling her eyes. "He's always been that way. And he's a little much for my husband so I sent him home to get some sleep." Her eyes pan over to Bobby. "And how's the big guy?"

I smile. "Loves being a dad. And he's going to be great at it."

She smiles back warmly. "I'm so glad. He's had a hard fight. I'm happy for all three of you."

"Thanks!"

"Well, I'll let you go…"

She turns to leave, but I stop her as Jeremy starts waking up again. "Oh…hey, Dr. James?"

She looks back at me. "What is it, sweetie?"

"Umm… They said he's ready for his feeding. But…" I glance up at her. "He doesn't seem… I-I don't know, I thought it would be easier than this…"

"Give it another try…"

So I do. But after a couple more attempts, he still doesn't seem interested. I glance up at her and start to say that he's probably not hungry. Then all of a sudden, he latches on and starts feeding. I glance back at her and shrug.

"There. He's got it," she says, heading for the door. "Just takes some getting used to for both of you."

I smile at her. "Thanks."

"I'll see you both in six weeks," Dr. James says, closing the door.

The door closing seems to stir Bobby awake. His eyes open and he glances over at us. Jeremy's little sucking noises are the loudest sound in the room.

Bobby smiles, eyes glistening lightly with tears. He leans over, resting his head on my shoulder. His hand reaches out to touch his son's back gently, then he lifts his head and looks over at me with concern. "How do you feel?"

"Okay," I reply. "Just a little out of it."

His smile widens a bit more. Usually means an idea just popped into his head..

"What?"

"I think we're done with hospitals for a while."

"I think you've got a great idea," I respond back. "And I hope you plan to keep it that way."

"So… What do you say we take our son and go home?"

_**x x x **_

**TBC… (one more!) **


	11. Chapter 11

_**x x x**_

**A/N… Sorry this one turned up a little later than expected. Longest one yet, though. I wish I had more hours in a week, but I do love to write. **

**We're moving ahead to the future (Jeremy's 17, but he and others are going to recap a bit. Past scenes are in italics.) When we return to present, that's the same time this chapter begins. Alex and Bobby would be in their mid-late 50s (approximately). I'm just picturing them as they appeared in season 10 (or thereabouts), if that helps. Those two are ageless beauties in my opinion. **

**Crossover alert. I have a little SVU in every LOCI story (and vice-versa), so this chapter gets the SVU. It's basically story support. If you know a little about Elliot's and Olivia's families, great. If not, I don't think you'll be that lost. (Obviously, this goes in a VERY different direction than SVU did.) I took some liberties with the timeline for both shows, too (had to be done. ;) The emphasis is still on Bobby, Alex and their journey. **

_**x x x**_

**Jeremy's POV **

I carry the box to the center of our living room floor, plop down beside it and start opening it.

"Any luck?" my mom asks, as she wanders into the living room and sits down on the sofa, a few feet away.

I shake my head in response. "Have _you_ ever tried searching through Dad's book collection for something? Didn't he _used to_ be a fan of library cards? What about E-books?" I pose lightheartedly.

I love my dad and his passion for books. I'm the same way. I'm only groaning about having to search through many stacks of books, and lugging boxes in and out of our attic or the garage, in order to find the one I'm looking for.

"If it's not in his library, then it's probably in one of those boxes in storage," she says.

I pull two books off the top, and a shoe box appears. "And it's all mixed in with other stuff," I add wearily. The shoebox contains small keepsakes. I set it aside.

"I'm sure you'll find it, honey." She picks up her laptop and resumes checking her email.

I remove more things out of the box, setting them on the floor or the coffee table, until I reach the bottom.

_No book._ _So, it's onto the next. _

As I begin refilling that box to put it away, I hear the front door open.

"Find it yet?" Allyson asks curiously, wandering into our living room. She lowers her eyes toward the floor and smiles at me.

Allyson Stabler has been my best friend since birth. She's five months younger than I am.

Ally's got it all—brains, beauty, humor, and she's been my faithful companion through just about everything. I love her immeasurably.

She started school a year later than me, but skipped the sixth grade. So we finished the last six years together. We'll be starting college in a few weeks. I'll be eighteen next month.

Her parents are Elliot and Olivia Stabler. She has five older half-siblings. Eli is the next oldest by a couple of years.

Aside from our families being so close and our parents being cops, we've always had a lot in common.

And no surprise, we both want to be cops.

It's a Sunday afternoon. While I should be packing for a camping trip that leaves tomorrow, I've decided to search for this book.

I guess I'm kind of curious about it. Dad's mentioned it a lot. It's mostly about criminal profiling. I only have a couple weeks before school starts, so I thought I'd check it out.

I shake my head in response to her question.

"Give me that author's name again?" she requests, squatting down on the floor beside me to help.

"This one's done, I'm just repacking it," I tell her. "And it's S. Brenwick. It's a red hardback, no jacket. Probably an inch thick."

She nods and settles back. "How long have you been at this?"

"This is the third box. It's not in his library and he doesn't know where it is either," I explain groaning.

Allyson smiles and stands back up. "Well then… I guess I'd better go put on a pot of coffee."

"You think it'll go faster with caffeine?"

"Couldn't hurt." She stops on the way out and turns back toward my mom. "Hey Alex, do you want some coffee?"

"No thanks, sweetie. But the dishwasher is clean, if you're looking for cups," Mom responds.

"Okay, thanks."

Soon, I hear her filling the coffee pot with water. _"Hey, Jer, I'm not putting your 15 scoops of sugar in…,_" she hollers back from the kitchen, _"…you'll have to do it yourself!"_

She's just messing with me. And yes, I take after my mom when it comes to my preference for coffee. "Oh, what good are you?" I tease her back.

I re-tape that box and pull another one from our attic. Returning to my same location, I plop down on the floor and start opening it.

Allyson returns from the kitchen. I hear the coffee pot brewing, so she's taken care of that important task. She sits down with me.

The first thing I see is a small-checkered, black and white button-up shirt. I take it out of the box and hold it up. "This looks like Dad's…?"

Mom glances over in my direction. "It _is_ his."

"Okay…? So, what's it doing _in here_?" I ask, setting it aside.

"Oh, I don't know… Probably got shoved somewhere quickly the last time we moved, and we forgot about it," she supposes. "That's probably one of your boxes. If I remember correctly, you took that shirt from him."

"_I took it from him?_" I repeat quizzically.

She smiles. "Yes. When you were young, you'd put on your dad's shirts as he was getting ready for work. He'd just grab another one out. Not sure if he got a few of them back, including that one. It made for a busy morning, sometimes…"

_**x x x**_

**Alex's POV**

_**~Past~**_

_I stand at the mirror in the bathroom putting on make-up, while my two-year-old bounces around the bathroom floor gleefully. The arms and tails of his father's dress shirt skim the floor as he moves._

"_Are you being Daddy?" I ask him. I lift the mascara brush to put some on._

_He giggles at me._

_I can't help but smile. He's got so much of Bobby in him. Dark hair, with some curl to it, dark eyes, these adorable little cheeks and the cutest grin. _

_As I lower my brush, I look over at him. "Could you go ask Daddy if he's ready?" _

"'_kay," he answers me, and then shuffles out of our master bathroom and into the hallway. "Daaaddeeeee!"_

_I finish my make-up, check myself once more, then walk out of our bedroom. As I start down the hall, I see no sign of Bobby or Jeremy._

"_Hey, guys! We've gotta go!"_

_Typical mornings in our household. After Jeremy is dropped off at daycare, Bobby and I go to work._

_We moved to a bigger place just after Jeremy turned one. _

_I turn the corner and see Jeremy standing at the entrance to the kitchen gazing in. Something has his attention._

_Stopping at the hall closet, I retrieve my jacket and put it on. "Sweetheart, where's Daddy?" _

"_Daddy on floor," he replies softly. Jeremy bends all the way over, with his head almost touching the floor, so he can look at him… _

_Well, he is his father's son._

_I assume they're playing. Bobby and Jeremy are as close as a father and son can be. Although work still gets in the way sometimes, he'll grab moments to play with Jeremy. _

"_What's Daddy doing on the floor?"_

"_Sleeping."_

"_Sleeping…?" That dreaded feeling creeps up inside me as I move quickly toward the kitchen. "Bobby?" _

_He's lying on the floor and he isn't moving. _

_I squat down beside him. "Honey?" _

_No response. He's pale._

_I'm already shaking as I check his pulse. It's weak. At least he's breathing._

_There's a red mark on the side of his head and a small cut there. He fell right by the sink and the cabinet door is open. _

_It looks like he was going for a glass of water. _

_He's lying on his back, with one arm across his chest and one leg folded slightly underneath him. So he probably lost his balance, tried to grab the counter and hit his head on the way down._

_With Bobby, there could be any number of reasons why._

_I pull out my phone and can barely get the numbers dialed. _

_Jeremy wanders closer and squats down on the floor beside his dad, patting him on the arm._

_No idea what's going through his mind, or why he thinks Bobby would be sleeping on the kitchen floor. But I'm trying not to sound too panicked as I talk to the 911 operator. Not sure how great of a job I'm doing, either. _

_When that's done, my next call is to the Stabler's. _

_The greatest thing we three have besides each other, is the Stabler family. That's Elliot, Olivia and their little girl, Allyson. They're like a part of our extended family and we love them. We all go out to eat, take vacations and spend holidays together. It's been great._

_Elliot, Olivia, and Elliot's older children have become our back-up babysitters for emergencies such as these. They tell us not to hesitate to call them. Especially, when it concerns Bobby. _

_I manage to reach Olivia, and fortunately, she hasn't left for work yet. They're about a block away from us. When they have work emergencies, we'll watch Allyson. We've also taken care of Eli. It all works out._

_Olivia arrives just as the medics show up. She'll finish getting Jeremy ready and they'll meet us at the hospital._

_I ride with Bobby, giving the EMTs his medical history. _

_As we arrive, I make a quick phone call to Deakins to let him know what's going on. _

_Next, I find a seat in the waiting area. It's about forty-five minutes before anyone appears. _

"_Mrs. Goren?" a woman doctor calls for me when she enters the waiting room. She's carrying a folder, which is probably Bobby's faxed medical records._

_I stand up and start walking to her. _

_This is still the worst part for me. I'm holding my breath from the moment they call my name until I hear what's going on. _

"_Yes, doctor?"_

"_Your husband is stable. Everything looks fine." She relays calmly._

_Out of the corner of my eye, I see Olivia walk in carrying Jeremy. I gesture for her to join us._

"_Mom-Mom-Mom-Momma!" Jeremy greets me happily. He holds his favorite stuffed dog in his hand. Olivia must have found it for him before they left._

_Olivia steps up and puts her hand on my shoulder supportively. Like I said, they're family to us._

"_What happened?" I ask the doctor._

"_Not sure, other than a sudden drop in blood pressure," the doctor answers. "Since he fell, we did a head x-ray, which looks fine. Has he had any weakness or dizziness, chest pain, poor circulation, muscle aches, or anything of that sort, recently?"_

"_No, not at all," I reply._

_Her gaze shifts to the folder in her hand. She opens it and skims the page. "I see that he's had a history of cancer. Last recurrence was about a year ago. Has he had a screening lately?" She lifts her head again to look at me._

_I nod. "We just got the results back. Everything was fine." _

_She shrugs. "I've ruled out anything here that might be a medical emergency. He's resting, but you're free to visit with him. When we finish his paperwork, he can leave. Have him make a follow-up appointment with his primary care doctor. Make sure he gets in to see someone sooner, if he's experiencing any dizziness or weakness. Talk to Mark at the front counter…," she pauses to gesture to the man standing there, "…he'll take you to see your husband."_

"_Thank you, doctor," I reply, just before she leaves._

"_Sounds like good news," Olivia says to me._

"_Yeah, I'm still a little fuzzy about what happened, but it looks like we can go see him."_

_She hands Jeremy over to me. "You two go visit. I have to call Fin about a case. I'll be in there in just a minute."_

"_Thanks, Liv." _

"_Anytime."_

_I take Jeremy, then head over to the counter._

_Moments later, we enter the room. _

"_Daddeeeeee!" Jeremy greets him, starting to wiggle in my arms with anticipation._

_Bobby, who happens to be awake, glances up at us and smiles. _

_The first thing I notice is that he's still very pale. It might be this lingering weakness, might be something else. I've become a little adamant about his health lately, but I can't help it. This man and our son, are my world. _

"_Hey, sweetheart," I greet Bobby._

"_Hi, honey," he says to me. I lean over to kiss him. As I do, Jeremy crawls from my arms into Bobby's hospital bed._

"_Careful, sweetie…" I say to Jeremy, who plows his way over Bobby's IV tubes and the monitoring equipment._

"_It's okay, I've got him," Bobby says, scooping him into his arms. "How's my boy?" he greets Jeremy, giving him a kiss on the head. _

"_Daddy…'kay?'" he asks. He picks up his stuffed dog and nuzzles it against Bobby's arm._

"_Yes, I'm okay. Just got a little weak."_

"_Do doctor says!" he orders Bobby sternly, wagging a finger at him._

_Jeremy often hears me urging Bobby to 'do what the doctor says'—which is what he's reminding him of._

_Bobby grins. "Yes, baby. I'll listen to my doctor."_

_**x**_

_We learn a little later, that Bobby's fainting spell was due to a problem with a new medication he takes for his back. Fortunately, that's easily resolved by switching him to a lower dose._

_We knew someday that we'd have to explain more to Jeremy than just, 'Daddy's very sick.' _

_To Jeremy, 'very sick' means he puts a blanket over Bobby, sets his stuffed dog beside him, kisses his head and it'll all be better. _

_He just has to do what the doctor says._

_Bobby has had to undergo chemo for a few small masses since Jeremy was born. He still struggles with the side effects._

_We researched the child psychology books and materials, wanting to make sure we were doing the right thing when it comes to explaining cancer to a child. _

_Our next challenge happens a year and a half later. Jeremy is a month from his fourth birthday. _

_At that age, he's curious about everything. Lots of questions. _

_What makes it even harder, is that he's very close to Bobby. _

_Rather than keeping Jeremy out of the loop, Bobby tries to be open about his condition. I think he's done a great job of answering his questions and helping him understand things without upsetting him._

_The flaw in our approach…? Our son's very receptive. Even when we're at the hospital or the clinic and it concerns another patient, he's asking questions._

_This one time, we didn't have the opportunity to help him sort it out before it became too confusing._

_One afternoon, Elliot has Allyson with him and offers to pick up Jeremy from daycare. He brings him over when Bobby and I get back from work. _

_Jeremy's up several times during the night with bad dreams. He's very upset and reluctant to talk about them._

_The next day, I take him to daycare. Jeremy's fussing and crying. Doesn't want to go inside. I figure he's tired from being up for most of the night. _

_Since Bobby has a few appointments and plans to be off from work, he keeps him for the day. _

_That night, more bad dreams. Bobby and I are at a loss. _

_The next morning, we both take him to the daycare and the same thing happens. He clings to us and refuses to go in._

_I let Bobby go on to work and decide to stay with him. _

_Jeremy and I meet up with Elliot and Olivia at a restaurant in Midtown for lunch. I mention what's been going on with Jeremy to the two of them. They suggest that I take him back to the daycare after lunch, and actually go in there with him for a little while._

_I had no reason to suspect his daycare of anything. But I really didn't know where to start. Elliot had a point._

"_Makes sense, why didn't I think of that earlier?" I pose in response, feeling a little silly._

"_Maybe because you've been up the past two nights with a kid who can't sleep?" Elliot offers with a sympathetic grin. "Don't worry about it, Alex. You're still doing the best that any parent can do."_

_So we head there next. For an hour and a half, he runs around and plays with the other kids. He does come over to check in with me periodically, but still seems okay. _

_I talk to the daycare workers for a little bit. One of the ladies had been out for a couple weeks on bereavement leave, and just came back. She lost her father to Lymphoma._

_My father had passed away a few months ago too, so I felt that familiar pang. My brothers, my sister and I are still dealing with final expenses and a lot of miscellaneous details._

_She and I talk for a few minutes. I know what she's going through, so I try to offer her some support and sympathy._

_Meanwhile, where Jeremy is concerned, everything seems normal. The workers say he's been very good. Nothing out of the ordinary, aside from refusing to go in._

_Jeremy and I head home after that. _

_That night, Bobby's running later than usual. After a while, Jeremy's starting to become a little restless wondering where he is. I'm able to settle him down by telling him 'Daddy's on the way.' That works for a little while, then he's anxious again._

_Finally, Bobby comes home. He and Jeremy play for a little while and Jeremy goes to bed._

_Later that night, the bad dreams return. We hear him crying from our bedroom._

"_I've got him," Bobby says, getting out of bed._

_Minutes later, Bobby returns. "We've got company," he announces as he walks in. I roll onto my back as Bobby sets Jeremy in the bed between us. _

"_Hi, sweetie…" I greet Jeremy._

"_We'll try this tonight and see if he's able to fall asleep," Bobby suggests. "Might make it a little easier on us too, since we won't have to get up to check on him." _

_Jeremy rarely has bad nights. Most of the time, the cause is typical. He's sick or has trouble getting settled. We can usually get him to go to sleep. _

_He does have a little separation anxiety whenever one of us is gone overnight. _

_There have been a couple times since Jeremy was born, that we brought him into our bed for the night. Bobby has his own difficult nights during treatment, so I don't want to disturb his sleep if I can help it. I'll usually spend the night in the recliner that's in Jeremy's room, rocking him until he falls asleep._

_But this is the first time Jeremy's had a few bad nights in a row, without us knowing a cause._

_It takes a little adjusting, but soon we're all able to fall asleep._

_A little later that night, Bobby awakens me with a light tap on the shoulder. My eyes open and he quietly gestures to Jeremy, who is asleep but becoming restless. _

"_He's muttering a little. It's hard to pick out what he's saying," Bobby whispers._

_Bobby touches his arm to wake him. "Jeremy…? Baby, wake up…."_

_It takes him a moment. He lifts his head and looks over at him. "Daddy…" he cries._

_Bobby sits up in bed, then scoops him into his arms. "Were you dreaming again?" he asks, after Jeremy settles in._

"_Uh-huh," the little boy answers tearfully._

"_What happens in your dreams?"_

"_Nothing."_

"_Is anyone with you?"_

_He shakes his head._

"_Is anyone bothering you?"_

"_No."_

"_What do you see?"_

"_Nothing…"_

_For the past two nights, this is as far as we get. Bobby decides to press him a little harder. "What about Mommy? Is she there?"_

_He nods. "Sometimes."_

"_Mommy's with you?"_

"_Mommy's home."_

"_Okay, so you and Mommy are at home in your dreams. Do you see me?"_

"_No!" he cries out, distressed._

"_You can't find me?"_

"_No!" he asserts again. _

_Bobby and I exchange a glance. _

"_When you see Mom, what happens next?"_

"_Look for you."_

"_And you can't find me?"_

"_Mommy don't know where you are too!"_

"_Maybe I'm at work?"_

"_No, Daddy! Mommy don't know!" he stresses._

"_I'll always come home, you know."_

_Jeremy's quiet for a minute. Then he looks up at Bobby somberly, "Are you gonna die too?"_

_Bobby and I exchange another worried look. A heavy sigh escapes his lips. "Why do you ask that, Jeremy?"_

"_Your cansure."_

"_My cancer?"_

"_Uh-huh. Kelly's Daddy got cansure. Kelly says he's with Pop-Pop now." _

"_Kelly from the daycare," I remind Bobby. "Her father just passed away."_

_In a cancer clinic, the subject of death comes up frequently. _

_We could safely dodge that topic around Jeremy, until my father passed away. Jeremy was close to my dad, too. He still looks for my dad, whenever we happen to be over at the house. _

_So after the funeral, Bobby and I sat down with him and tried to explain death. _

"_There are different kinds of cancer," Bobby responds. "Do you remember me telling you that?" _

_Bobby had recently been through a series of treatments. The mass doesn't seem to be shrinking, but we're waiting on more test results._

_Jeremy nods. "But you're sick all the time! That not good!"_

_Our son's getting a little too smart. _

"_Yes, but I'm going for treatment when they tell me to. I'm eating what I have to. Doing what my doctor says. Doing my exercises. Sometimes the cancer comes back. I don't like it when it comes back, but we take care of it."_

"_Make it go away, Daddy! I don't want you die!" he says frowning._

_I see Jeremy's words bothering him, but he pushes the emotions aside and addresses him calmly. "I'll keep fighting it. You can help me like you always do. Like when I do my exercises? I need lots of help. Think you can sit with me and make sure I do them right?" he poses, eyeing Jeremy affectionately._

_He sniffles and nods. _

_I love that Bobby keeps him involved in his treatment. It's therapeutic for the both of them._

_I always knew Bobby would make a great father. He's very patient, nurturing and supportive. He says he uses nothing but the psychology he's learned through the years. He's been very successful at teaching and reassuring Jeremy. _

"_So tomorrow, Mommy and I are going to go to work, and you're going to go to daycare. Okay?"_

"'_kay."_

"_You promise? Mommy and I both need to go to work."_

"_Uh-huh."_

"_And one of us will pick you up after work, right?"_

"_Right."_

_Bobby hugs him and kisses his cheek. "No more bad dreams. Hey, remember the time we saw the duck chasing the dog in the park?"_

_Jeremy giggles._

"_Or…how about the time at the zoo when you saw that silly monkey who was jumping all over the place, making everyone laugh."  
_

"_Uh-huh," Jeremy says laughing a little harder._

_Jeremy absolutely loves the zoo. He did get a kick out of seeing that monkey._

"_Try thinking about the silly animals when you go to sleep. Then you'll have some happy dreams."_

"'_kay," he responds smiling._

"_So how about….you, me and Mommy go see if that silly monkey's there this weekend?" _

_Jeremy nods excitedly. "Yeah, yeah, yeah!"_

_Sounds like a bribe to me. Who knows, maybe it'll help. _

"_You get some sleep. You'll stay here with us tonight. Tomorrow night, you'll go back to your room. Okay?"_

_He nods. _

"_Now…" He lifts Jeremy and turns him around to face me. "Give Mommy a big hug and tell her goodnight..."_

_He opens his arms and I sit up to hug him. "G'night, Mommy."_

"_Do you love her?" Bobby prompts warmly, grinning at me._

"_Uh-huh," he replies._

"_A little…? Or A LOT…?" _

"_LOTS!" he replies enthusiastically, hugging me tighter._

"_Well, tell her," he coaxes._

"_Love Mommy LOTS!"_

"_Awww… I love you too, sweetie. Goodnight."_

_**x**_

_Fortunately, we make it through the rest of the night with no more nightmares._

_The next day, I take him back to daycare. _

_Once again, he refuses._

"_You told Daddy and me that you were going to daycare today…"_

_He shakes his head._

"_Go on inside, Jeremy."_

_One of the girls who work at the daycare stands by, waiting for him to go inside. She tries to encourage him, but he backs away from her._

"_Nooooo… Daddy! Daddy! Daaaaaddeeeee!" The little boy stomps his feet a couple times, then starts crying._

_I know that he's still trying to work through some of this. _

_But I can't allow the behavior to continue. _

_So I do the one thing I hate doing most as a parent… I scold my son._

"_Jeremy, no! That's enough! You're going to daycare!"_

_One of the things about this kid that makes him so wonderful, is that he never pushes it beyond this point. _

_Whenever we put our foot down, that's the end of it. He realizes he has to behave. I attribute a lot of it to Bobby's patience and constantly working with him. _

_He looks up at me with those weepy brown eyes and quivering lower lip. The little dark ringlet of hair above his brow is standing up. "'kay," Jeremy responds, although he continues to frown. _

_I stoop down and give him another hug. "I'll have Daddy pick you up this afternoon, okay?"_

"'_kay," he says again. _

"_I love you." _

"_Love Momma."_

_He turns toward the daycare worker and starts to go inside._

_I wander out of there and the tears hit me. _

_That fear and the nightmares seem like a normal response for any kid who is trying to understand something that's really beyond his years. _

_Some of this is difficult to understand, even at my age. _

_He probably overheard the girls talking about Kelly's dad and someone started a cancer discussion. _

_They didn't know he had been listening in, or I'm sure they would have tamed down the discussion. Everyone there knows about Bobby. _

_Jeremy does tend to gravitate toward Kelly and another girl, Sylvia, whom he really likes. _

_I had hoped that Jeremy would become Bobby's motivation for fighting the cancer, and so far and that's exactly what happened._

_But Jeremy loves his father just as much. _

_As for the nightmares? Yeah, I've had plenty of my own. Probably not that much different from his._

_So what do I do…? I tell him to stop worrying about his father and go about his day, as if nothing could ever go wrong._

_And he obeys me._

_That little boy is stronger than I'll ever be._

_**x x x**_

**~Present~**

**Jeremy's POV**

I dig a little further in the box and pull out some other things I know are mine. "You're right, Mom. I think most of this stuff is mine. Might as well start marking some of these boxes." I retrieve a marker and sit back down in the same spot. I continue going through it anyway, wondering if there's anything that I don't want packed away.

My hand brushes against something soft and plush. "Hey Mom…I finally found Tart-tart…" I announce chuckling, as I retrieve my floppy-eared stuffed hound dog from the box.

"I wondered what happened to him," Mom replies affectionately.

I carried him around with me as a kid. He's brown, with white and black patches. Very worn over the years. I set him down on the carpet beside me.

Allyson snickers, but I know she remembers him.

Yes, Tart-tart is a strange name for a stuffed dog. No idea where I came up with that. Mom thinks that I was probably trying to say 'sweetheart.' My parents called each other sweetheart, they called me, sweetheart, so yeah, the term has been used a lot.

Anyway, there's one name that I think tops it… Allyson had a pet cat named Ketchup.

Her half-brother Eli found the abandoned kitten and wanted to name it 'Heinz.' _"You know…,"_ he tells his younger sister during the introductions, _"…like the Ketchup."_

So of course, three-year old Allyson decides the kitten should be named 'Ketchup.' Eli developed allergies, so the cat ended up living with Allyson, Olivia and Elliot.

"Hey, Mom… When did I get Tart-tart?"

"You were about a year and a half. Dad went in for chemo and wound up staying in the hospital for a few days. They didn't want kids visiting and he didn't want to upset you. But you were having a lot of trouble sleeping. One day, he finds him at the hospital gift store and wants to get him for you. I took him home, hoping it would cheer you up."

I nod. Searching a little further through the box, I pull out a toy engine. It looks a little familiar. "Who gave me this?" I ask my mom as I hold it up.

"Oh, that one was from Captain Deakins…"

_**x x x**_

_**~Past~**_

_**(Still Jeremy's POV)**_

_One of my parents favorite kid-stories to this day, is when I went to Major Case to meet everyone. They had all seen me at four and a half weeks old. _

_This time, I'm a few weeks away from my second birthday and just starting to talk more. _

_There weren't too many youngsters in the department at the time, so I got a lot of attention. And they all wanted to hear me talk. _

_Introductions went like this… 'Hi, what's your name? I'm so-and-so… Can you say that?' _

_At the time, I had just mastered, 'Momma and Daddy.' Except my D's weren't that great, so Daddy sounded more like Tatty. _

_I was great at Gs, so I threw those out liberally. 'Doggie' became 'goggie.' _

_For the longest time, the best I could do for my own name was 'Jer-ME!' _

_Yeah, lots of stress on the final syllable, and who needs that middle syllable anyway? _

_My parents did work with me a lot._

_So anyway, I liked these people at the precinct, but I had a lot of trouble trying to pronounce their names. _

_One of the uniformed officers, who happens to like kids a lot, stayed near us and kept prompting me. So I did the best I could._

_The first one I meet is Mike._

"_I'm Mike Logan…"_

_All my toddler mouth could come up with is 'Gogan.' Which I thought was pretty good._

_He obviously didn't agree. So I ended up with the nickname 'Junior Goren'. He still calls me that to this day, in fact. _

_The next one is Carolyn Barek. _

_They want me to say…what?' Who the hell are they kidding?_

_Best I could do is 'Crayon.' _

_And on down the list._

_The last one I meet is Captain Jimmy Deakins. Very nice guy. I miss him sense he's retired. _

_At that young age, I wasn't at Major Case too often. Anytime I'd show up, he'll have treats or toys to offer me._

_So Captain Deakins steps out of his office. My parents are at their desks, chatting about some case with a couple of uniformed officers. _

_Mike and Carolyn are perched on the corner of their desks, chatting away. Mike's holding me, Tart-tart is probably somewhere close by, and I'm craning my head around so I can keep my parents in sight. Probably a little mesmerized by the activity in the bullpen. _

_Deakins comes over to see me. _

_Just the fact that he's out there draws the attention of others in the squad room. Everyone's eyes are on us as Mike begins introductions._

_Captain Jimmy Deakins…Captain Jimmy Deakins… Deakins…Deakins…hmmm… This one's going to be pretty tough. But I make an earnest attempt. I extend my hand to shake his. _

_I study his face, trying to formulate the sounds in my head. Then I enthusiastically announce the superior officer's name… "GEEEEEEK'n!" _

_Like I said, Ds were a tough letter to learn. I had no idea what I'd just said._

_So my rather loud proclamation cracks up the entire squad room. _

_Yes, even Captain Geeeeek'n. Poor guy has suffered that nickname through the years because of me. It's a good thing he has a sense of humor._

_As for his successor, Captain Ross? Well…I'm glad he had an easy name. _

_For some reason, I was always a little afraid of him. _

_**x x x**_

**Alex's POV**

_**~Present~**_

It's mid-afternoon, so I head over to the Stabler's house. We're getting ready for our traditional camping trip with the Stablers. We've gone most years since the kids were little.

At this stage in the preparations, Olivia and I are usually checking weather and making sure we have what we need. There are always a few last minute surprises.

Afterward, she and I sit at her kitchen table, having a beer and engaging in the usual girl talk.

She's been my best friend for years. Very supportive. We're more like sisters.

Allyson comes in while we're sitting there.

"Taking a break from the great book hunt?" I ask her.

"Jer's into it. Don't let the bellyaching fool you. He likes finding stuff from his past, the childhood memories. He's such a softy—don't tell him I said so," she explains with a grin. "I forgot to pack some nail clippers and tweezers," she answers me, then turns toward Olivia. "Hey, Mom… You seen my gray hoodie?"

Olivia nods. "Yeah, it ended up in my pile after we did laundry. It's sitting on top of your dresser."

"Thanks. Are Dad and Bobby still at the range?" she asks both of us.

"I assume so," I answer, turning to Olivia to see if she's heard anything further from Elliot.

"They'll wrap it up soon. Elliot's picking up dinner for all of us."

Allyson nods, then heads for her room.

"Has Bobby got the last lab result back yet?" Olivia asks me.

I sigh, shaking my head apprehensively. "It's the usual waiting game."

_**x x x**_

_**~Past~**_

_**(Still **_**Alex's POV)**

_After dropping Jeremy off at daycare, I head to Major Case. I must look like a wreck from crying. _

_I did need to stop by the DA's office to talk with Carver about a case that's headed for court. Almost rather do that first. _

_At the DA's office, the women's bathroom is right by the entrance. Keeping my head down, I could head straight there to clean off my mascara and fix my make-up. After that, I'd just head for Ron's office. _

_Then I remember that he's stuck in court all morning. So much for that idea. _

_Guess I'll head to Major Case. Hopefully, no one's around._

_As I enter the squad room, I see that I'm out of luck yet again. Bobby and Mike are there. Deakins is out of the office, and everyone else is around or out on assignment._

_Bobby's perched on the side of Mike's desk reading a file and Mike is refilling his coffee mug._

_I stroll in quickly and drop my stuff without making eye contact with anyone. I snatch a tissue from my desk and move hurriedly toward the bathroom._

_Bobby notices me and crosses the room in time to intersect my path. "How'd it go?" he asks._

_I don't know why I thought I could get past him. The man knows me too well._

_I sniffle and lower my head. Tears resume, because I still haven't worked any of this out. "He's there. He didn't want to go in, so I had to put my foot down."_

_Screw the make-up. Might as well put a bag over my head. _

_He guides me into his arms and kisses the top of my head. "You're a great mom," he tells me softly. "He knows you love him. We knew this wouldn't be easy for him to handle."_

"_It's not easy for me, either…" I admit, my voice breaking. _

_He releases me briefly, then turns toward Mike. "We're going out for a couple minutes."_

_Mike waves us on. "Take your time," he adds._

"_I needed a breather anyway," he explains. He keeps his arm around me to shield me as we exit the building. _

_Moments later, we're outside of 1PP. He takes me aside when he finds a spot that's mostly out of the way of foot traffic. He turns to face me. "I think he probably overheard the girls at the daycare talking and they didn't notice him. You know how he adores Sylvia and Kelly." _

_I nod because I had already concluded the same thing. "I don't want to push Kelly to find out what was said, she's still shaken up," I add. "This last time, her father got the cancer, it spread and he went quickly."_

"_We already know this is separation anxiety. Jeremy thinks that as long as we're with him, nothing can go wrong. He 'can't find me' in his dreams, so he panics. He hasn't accepted your father's death. He still looks for him whenever we go over to see your family. We just need to work with him a little more…" he sighs. "That was a long day. We probably should have waited before having that talk with him."_

_I nod and wipe more tears away._

"_He also…umm…mentioned that 'you' didn't know where I was in the dream. Alex..he's remembering the times when he's seen you panic," Bobby adds, eyeing me uneasily._

"_And that's not helping him," I admit, biting my lip. The tears come a little more freely._

_Bobby lowers his head pensively for a moment, then looks back at me. "Look, I—I've been wanting to talk to you about something anyway. I guess now is as good a time as any…"_

"_What is it?"_

_He sighs. "Sweetheart, you can't keep lugging so much around… You keep the house running, you're taking care of me and Jeremy, and you're constantly on the move. When you came in to see me in the hospital the last time, I could see it all affecting you and it scared the hell out of me. I know you worry about me. But now, I'm the one who's getting scared… Your health is just as important to me. You lost your father a couple months ago and I know you still need time to deal with that. I—I can't stand the thought of you having blood pressure issues, a heart attack, or some other health problems, just because of everything we have to deal with. Whatever you need to do to reduce your stress, do it. Do it for me and Jeremy… We love you so much." _

_Like I said. screw the make-up. _

"_I'm sorry," I offer, crying a little harder. He pulls me into his arms._

"_Don't be sorry. You've just gotta take care of yourself. That's the best thing you can do for us."_

_I settle back a little so I can see him. "It hurts seeing that little boy upset. I can't say anything to help him because I'm just as scared." _

_Bobby reaches up with the pads of his thumbs and wipes some of my tears. "We've done the best we can to prepare Jeremy. We'll just keep working with him. And whether I have 2, 5, 10 or 20 years left, we have to make the most of what time we have. We love each other, we love our son, and we do our best to stay healthy. We can't worry about what's to come. Or even…my next test result. Promise me you'll work at reducing your stress?"_

_I lower my head. "I—I…"_

_He gently lifts my chin so I'm looking at him, "Promise me, baby?" Those dark eyes gaze into mine affectionately. _

_Everything we've been through only makes me love him more. And every year, it gets a little harder to picture my life without him, should something happen._

_So what else could I do, but continue to give him everything I can?_

_I nod. "I promise."_

_**x x x**_

**Allyson's POV**

_**~Present~**_

I leave Jeremy to his book search and run home to add a couple of items for this camping trip. Alex had come over to visit with my mom so they could get things ready. After I pack my cosmetics, the three of us girls chat for a bit.

A little later, I decide to head back to the Goren's to see how Jeremy's doing.

For my entire life, almost every memory I have going back to the very earliest, included the Goren family.

They're like a part of our extended family, and I love them very much.

I have five older half-siblings, three nieces, one nephew, eight cousins, five aunts and four uncles. Mom and I are pretty close. I'm her only child and I think that's part of it. Dad's tried to divide his time between all six of his kids and four grandkids. I know he loves me, but let's face it… It's a big family.

I'm close to my half-brother Eli and my cousin Olivia, who is Uncle Simon's daughter. We're Facebook friends. My older siblings, with the exception of Eli, are not around that often. I love them, but we're at different stages in life. They have kids of their own now. I don't see Dad's siblings too often. I'm also pretty close with Uncle Simon.

But no matter how big my family gets, I've remained very close to the Goren family. Growing up, I spent a lot of time with Jeremy.

Being the children of cops is complicated sometimes. So we have that in common.

There's also the whole cop's kid stereotype. People treat you differently.

I got a little bit of advice from my older half-sibs. They've made their share of mistakes.

Our parents love us, but they have a lot to deal with on the job. I guess that's really the bottom line.

So I'm seventeen and a half. Kind of a free spirit. Just your typical, head-in-the-clouds, life-is-meant-to-be-lived, type of girl. A lot like my mom when she was a teenager.

Meanwhile, Jeremy's my down-to-earth best friend. He's my rock. He never lets me get in over my head.

Quite honestly, he's my soul mate.

He's an incredibly sweet person. Seems shy when he first meets someone.

Around his family or closest friends, it's kind of a different story. The shyness goes away and he can sometimes be a goofball. He's still a loveable goofball.

He's a total genius, just like his dad. He's going to make one hell of a great cop.

His family is very important to him. Even when his dad is taking chemo, losing his hair, the rashes, throwing up, or in and out of the hospital, he's always been somewhere close by to tend to what he needs.

Occasionally, he'd reach his limit and come visit me. Usually, he just needs to vent or blow off a little steam before heading back. We play a little basketball, or just chat.

I've done my best to be there for him. Never let anyone know what he's told me in confidence.

That's made us very close over the years.

_**x**_

"Jer…?" I call out, as I open the door to his place. Jeremy and I have had keys to each other's place since we were old enough to carry them.

The Goren family moved to Brooklyn for a few years, then came back.

We moved a few times too. Kind of interesting, but the Stabler's and Goren's started out about a block apart and ended up a block apart. Just sort of worked out that way.

The space between our houses is a highly-traveled corridor. I used to wonder why our parents didn't just chip in and get one big place for all six of us, with guest rooms for the rest of the relatives. We're over at each other's places so often.

I enter their living room. There are still a few boxes and things piled where he was sitting earlier, but no sign of Jeremy. The doors to the attic and the garage are both closed. The basement door is open a little and the light is on, so I head downstairs.

There's the washer and dryer, a storage area under the steps with lots of boxes, and a small den. The den is the only part of the basement that's finished. There are a few chairs, a TV, a ping-pong table in the very back, and some coffee tables. It's where the older furniture ends up that they don't want to get rid of. They sometimes use it as a sitting area for parties, or as a TV room.

"Hey…Jer?" I call out. "You down here?"

I take a few more steps, but there's no answer.

"Say something… Make a noise, so I don't think you fell into a box," I tease.

For all I know, he could be hiding somewhere, waiting to jump out and scare me. He's done that before.

There are a couple boxes in the downstairs hallway. I walk around them and make my way toward the den.

He's sitting in there on the floor, with a few boxes around him. One box sits open beside him. There's a couple sheets of paper in his hand.

He glances up at me, then returns his eyes to the papers. "I shouldn't be reading this…"

Obvious question, but I have to ask it. "So why are you?"

"Curiosity. This is a letter from Dad to Mom. They gave each other notes and letters during her pregnancy. Dad was on short-term disability. Mom saves everything from him. In this one…he's telling her things he wants me to know, in case something happens to him. He's very depressed, Ally. Right here…" he points to a section, "he thinks Mom and me would be better off without him…" he lowers his head, but not before I see that it's getting to him.

I sit down beside him and wrap an arm around him. Then, I take the papers from his hand, set them inside the box and close the flaps. "_This…_is the past. You need to leave it in the past. Everyone says and does things they wish they could take back… How many times have you said that to me, Jeremy?"

"Yeah, I just didn't know my dad once felt this way," he says disheartened.

"He didn't have the family support when he was growing up…_remember?"_

He ponders it for a moment. "Yeah, I guess…"

"Not until Alex had him by the balls…" I pose with a grin. Alex is one of the strongest people I know. I know about Bobby's family and I can imagine 'somewhat', what his life was like. I imagine she had her work cut out for her, but she would never give up on her family.

He finally smiles. "I love my mom for straightening him out." He stands, picks up the box and carries it over to the stack of boxes behind the stairs. He returns to the den and props himself against the doorway with a frown. "My dad just had another lab test and we're waiting for the results. Even when he's taking care of himself and doing fine, it comes back…" he says frustrated. "I still worry about him."

I walk over and hug him. "You're allowed." He rests his head against my shoulder and lets out a heavy sigh.

We stand there quietly for a few minutes. No idea where his head goes, but it's probably somewhere dark and complex.

"I still haven't told anyone about you turning down that scholarship to Irvine," I add a minute later.

"I know, and I appreciate that, Ally."

"It's one of the top schools in the country for Criminal Psychology…"

"I'm not going 3000 miles away from home."

"It's your choice, Jer. You can still tell them. They'd be really proud of you."

He shakes his head. "No, Dad would tell me to take it and Mom would back him. What if Dad gets sick again? I've got a scholarship to Hudson. Doesn't matter to me if it's not a top school."

"Your secret's safe with me. And for what it's worth, I'd be pretty bummed if you went to California, anyway."

"Thanks. Same here."

I kiss his cheek, then release him.

"I'd better get these boxes put away before Mom has _me_ by the balls," he says, his eyes peering around at the den and the hallway.

"I'll help."

"Who? Me…._or her?_" he teases smartly.

I roll my eyes and glare.

"Any coffee left?" he asks.

I nod and head for the stairs. "Yeah, I'll get it." 

"Hey Ally… It's _only _12 scoops of sugar…"

I turn back toward him. "Cutting back?" I tease.

"Yeah, I'm sweet enough," he jokes with a smirk.

I chuckle and continue up the stairs.

_**x x x**_

_**Bobby's POV**_

_**~present~**_

"You think it needs a second coat?" I ask Elliot, as I walk around the back of the car and inspect.

Stabler and I spent part of the afternoon putting the final changes on my newest obsession—this Ferrari GTS.

Call it a mid-life crisis.

How I got it? More or less, being in the right place at the right time. I worked a case with the Feds, recently. One of our witnesses inherited the car, but couldn't afford the repairs. The car needed some serious engine work and three new tires.

To make a long story short, he had to leave the country and decided to sell it quickly. So I made him an offer for it.

Then of course, I called my good friend Lewis.

He made me no promises. Said there were a couple of concerns about getting parts, which could take some time. If it didn't work out, he said he'd buy it from me and sell it for parts.

Probably only end up losing a grand.

So I took a gamble and fortunately, it worked out.

Right now, it looks pretty damn good.

Elliot and I were at the shooting range earlier and I got the call that it was ready. Elliot wanted to see it, of course.

We're in Lewis's home garage, which is three blocks from our house.

Lewis is at a basketball game tonight, but I have a key to his home garage.

All it needed was a couple coats of wax. I told Lewis he could leave that part to me.

So Elliot and I rolled up our sleeves and went to work.

I haven't mentioned it to Alex yet. I wanted to see what Lewis could do before I sprang it on her.

"Nah, I think this one should cover it," he finally answers me. "Need another rag?" Elliot asks, as he fetches a new cloth for himself.

"I'm good," I respond. "So Maureen and Jim liked the restaurant?" I ask, steering our conversation back to the camping site.

"Yeah, they were impressed. It's an extravagant menu. Said it had great views of the lake, too. I figure we can probably hit it tomorrow night when we get there, after we set up camp?"

"Sounds good."

As is customary, the six of us—Stablers and Gorens—are headed upstate for a camping trip.

Not our usual camp spot this year. Elliot's daughter Maureen and son Richard have both been there with their respective families, and they say it's a great place.

We started the tradition of family outings with the Stablers many years ago.

Back when Jeremy was young, my cancer treatment limited our budget and the job had its usual time demands, our choices for family vacations were limited.

One year, Elliot recommends a weekend in Pennsylvania. We rented a couple tents, get some sleeping bags and sort of 'winged-it.' Honestly, that turned out to be one of the best vacations. Especially, for being so impromptu. The kids loved being outdoors and we adults had a lot of fun.

I still had some weak moments. So having the Stablers there also gave Alex a little extra support. These trips really brought the six of us closer.

The kids have gotten older, but they still love it. We go somewhere, just about every year.

Alex and I are still very active. She's now the captain of Major Case. I'm a captain too, by ranking. These days, I'm either working as a consultant for NYPD or assisting the Feds on special cases. Alex and I still get to work together a lot, which is nice. She'll put in a request for me, when she knows the case is right up my alley.

Elliot's retired from the NYPD for a couple years now. He has time for hobbies. He teaches a couple of self-defense courses for women, along with his wife, Olivia. She's the captain of Manhattan SVU.

I've thought about retiring early, but I still love the casework. Hard to give up, I guess. I still have limitations because of the cancer surgeries, recurrences and such.

I'm both nervous and excited about the fact that my son wants to be a cop.

I definitely want him to do what he loves. Obviously, I wish it didn't involve guns, or some of the world's worst psychopaths.

But I know he'll make one hell of a great cop.

_**x**_

"Any luck with finding the tickets you wanted to give to Alex?" Elliot asks.

"Nope," I sigh.

I didn't have the slightest idea what to give Alex when our 18th anniversary came up. I found someone selling cruise tickets online. He and his wife couldn't go because he was having surgery the month before the cruise, and wouldn't be able to travel for six to eight weeks after that.

Alex really wants to see the Mediterranean and this sounded perfect.

I held off the surprise and told her the gift would be arriving little later than expected. At the time, the person selling them hadn't responded to my second email. I needed time to get in touch with them.

He still hadn't replied a couple weeks later, so I decided to search online for more tickets.

Nothing panned out and I finally gave up.

"You got her some flowers, didn't you?"

"Yeah. But that's it."

"It was three months ago, Bobby. I don't think she's going to hold it against you. I'm sure she's not even thought about it."

"I've gotta get her something…"

I step back as I finish buffing the driver's side door. Elliot's at the passenger side, near the trunk.

"I can talk to Olivia. See if there's anything Alex mentioned wanting recently…?" he offers.

I continue examining my work, as another idea occurs to me. "You know what? I'm going to give her the car."

Elliot stops buffing suddenly and looks up at me. _"This car?"_

I nod. "Alex will love it."

"Of course she'll love it," he agrees. "Alex is a car fanatic."

"She's loved cars ever since she was a little girl," I add fondly.

He continues to shake his head in disappointment… "But man…._it's a Ferrari!"_

I know he understands. He's one of my best friends. He knows how close Alex and I are, and how much importance I place on my marriage.

Obviously, he's got to give me a hard time about it. It's to be expected. We're a couple of middle-aged men and this is a gorgeous sports car.

_Black exterior. Leather seats. Original dash._ Just stunning.

I no longer have my Mustang. This was going to be its replacement.

He wanders over and pats me on the arm, sighing. "You're killing me, man."

"She'll love it," I argue.

"Yeah, she will."

"Think she'll let me drive it...?"

Elliot chokes out a laugh. "This is _Alex_ we're talking about…_right?_"

I smirk. "Okay, maybe not."

We continue admiring the car.

"You're honestly going to give this up?"

My mind is made up. It's really not a tough decision. "She's worth it."

_**x**_

Elliot drops me off at the house, then goes on to pick up dinner for the group.

I call Alex just before we leave the garage, to find out where everyone is.

Turns out, they're all at our house.

Jeremy and Allyson had spent the afternoon searching for my Brenwick book.

I figured out where it was, but forgot to tell him. I didn't know he planned to read it so soon.

Alex says when she returned to our house, she found Allyson and Jeremy busy reorganizing some of the boxes we had kept in storage. She implied that they were doing a lot more laughing and joking around, so I guess everything is okay.

I walk through our front door. Alex is standing in front of the hallway closet. Looks like she's either searching for something, or trying to put something away.

She doesn't see me come in.

I can't resist. I sneak up behind her and wrap my arms around her.

"Oh shhhit…_Bobby!_" She startles and drops whatever's in her hand. Looks like they were cloth napkins.

I hear the others in our family room. I didn't want to draw the whole crowd just yet. After giving her a couple of quick kisses on the cheek, I whisper in her ear, "Come with me."

"Wha—? Where are we going?"

I take her hand and lead her toward the door. It's hard to hide my smile as I think about how much she's going to love this. "It'll only take a minute."

Three blocks later, we're at Lewis's garage. I take her toward the side entrance and unlock the door without opening it, then I turn back toward her. "Umm…. I feel bad about this, but I messed up my plans for your anniversary present. It's already three months late." 

She rolls her eyes. "Oh geez, Bobby. Don't worry about that."

"I did get you something. It's not your original gift, but I want you to have this." I pause and open the door. Then I turn on the garage light and gesture for her to go inside. "Here it is."

Alex walks in and stops short when she sees the car. She doesn't move or speak.

Once again, I sidle up behind her and wrap my arms around her. "Happy belated anniversary, sweetheart. Greatest eighteen years of my life and counting… I love you so much." I place a couple kisses on her cheek.

Pulling the keys out of my pocket, I present them in front of her. Then, I lean over to look at her face… _Just priceless._

She accepts the keys into her palm, still gazing at the car with the most adorable grin. "Y-you got me a-a…_Ferrari?"_

"All yours, baby."

She turns around to face me. All I see is this excited grin and her sexy, sparkling honey-brown eyes.

_Does she know I would give just about anything to see this beautiful expression on her face?_

"You got me a Ferrari!" she repeats excitedly. "Bobby…oh my God!" She wraps her arms around me and hugs me.

A moment later, she steps back. She still has this beautiful, beaming, awe-struck expression in her eyes. She takes a couple of awkward steps, looking a little frazzled, as if she's not sure where she should go first.

_God, I love her._

I gesture toward the driver's side door, then go to open it. "Go ahead, get in."

She starts toward it, then turns back toward me. "Wait…how…can you afford this?"

"Long story, but I got a good price for it. Needed some repairs and Lewis worked his magic."

She gazes at me a minute longer. "What about your Mustang?"

"What about it?"

"You talked about wanting to replace it someday."

In our household, we already have a sedan and an SUV. I figured we might want to offer the sedan to Jeremy for school.

"I _did_ say that," I answer her. "But this car is _yours_."

"You sold _your_ Mustang because…_of me."_

"Yes I did. And it was worth it."

_**x**_

It was about twelve years ago when I received the worst possible news. Alex had been shot in the back.

'_There was a lot of blood.'_ was told to me by the ER doctor, followed by the haunting words… '_The next several hours are critical.'_

I'll never get that out of my head.

Alex and I were on separate cases at the time, but still partners at Major Case. She was on an undercover assignment. Logan and I were interviewing some witnesses in the Bronx when I got the call.

The person who shot her was Curtis McGent—_the dirtiest of dirty cops._ And he was supposed to be her back-up.

He blew her cover for about five and a half million dollars.

_Alex could have died._

I can't even hear the name McGent, without wanting to punch something.

He lost his badge and is still serving out his 20-year sentence. Should have got life without parole, but he had some tips that the Feds needed on a couple of outstanding warrants. He accepted a deal.

Didn't make up for what he did to her.

She went into the hospital listed as critical. It was four days later when she started to pull out of it.

When I was able to take her home, she had a lot of trouble sitting and standing. She couldn't even attend to basic needs.

So I took care of her. As much as it killed me to see her in so much pain, taking care of her was no hardship.

Olivia and Elliot came to our aid, as usual. They made sure we had childcare, and sometimes helped me with Alex. Jeremy was almost five years old at the time.

The additional expenses were starting to add up. To make matters worse, she started to have these seizures.

We scheduled her for more back surgery.

A second operation happened two years after that, when she started to have a lot more difficulty sleeping.

I thought it was all linked to the incident. But there was some big debate between the doctors, the specialists, the x-ray technicians and the insurance companies, and I was so sick and tired of fighting everybody…

I just wanted my wife to be comfortable.

We didn't have any funds saved up, so I sold the Mustang to pay for her extra medical bills.

Believe me, that car meant nothing compared to her getting a good night's sleep and putting an end to her back problems.

_**x**_

Moments later, Alex pulls her new car into the driveway.

She and I step inside our front door, gazing at one another adoringly.

We settle in our front entrance way, I wrap my arms around her and we resume our little moment that had started back in Lewis's garage.

Years later, we're still very, very close.

I stand there, admiring everything about her. Especially, the gorgeous smile on her face.

"You know we're going to be in close quarters over the next few days," she reminds to me, as we exchange a few very pleasant kisses. "We'd better make the most of it tonight."

We'll be staying in a two-bedroom cabin with a large sleeping loft. Jeremy and Allyson will take the loft. According to Elliot, the cabin rooms are private, but not entirely soundproof.

"What'd you have in mind?" I pose. I'm getting worked up just looking into those beautiful, tempting honey-brown eyes.

"I have some ideas," she teases, starting to run her hand up the side of my leg, slowly. Her hand migrates toward the front of my pants.

"Alex!" I gasp.

She chuckles.

"Sweetheart, we have company…"

Suddenly, Jeremy pokes his head out of the living room. "_Hey, is that my parents making out in the hallway?_" he teases, causing us to stop kissing and glance in his direction.

He chuckles, waves at us, then quickly ducks his head back inside the living room.

Our eyes return to each other. Her hands settle on my ass. She squeezes it to get me going again.

"Glad you like your anniversary gift," I tell her.

"You think I haven't _always_ been hot for you?" she offers, seductively. She leans closer and lowers her voice, achieving that very sexy tone of hers. "Sweetheart… Tonight, the only drive shaft I'm going to be handling, is _yours—"_

I shove her against the wall, putting my mouth on hers and delivering what I hope will relay a little further how much I want her right now.

It's not just my attraction to her. Although I'm convinced I'll probably never need one of those little blue pills whenever she's around.

I just love her so deeply. Eighteen years of marriage, and she's _still_ my everything.

Jeremy resurfaces from the living room and starts toward us.

When he was little, he'd come up to us whenever we were kissing or just being close. We thought this was typical curious kid-behavior. Just wondering what we're up to.

As he's gotten older, he'll sometimes touch one of us on the arm or on the back, and walk on. Just an affectionate hello.

Occasionally, he'll tease us or do silly things to try to distract us. Or, he'd simply hover nearby until we stopped kissing and noticed him standing there.

We don't mind it. But Alex and I did get him back for the teasing a couple times.

There was one particular time, about two years ago, when things got a little silly.

_**x x x**_

_**~ Past ~**_

_**(Still Bobby's POV)**_

_Alex and I had just worked our first case together in months._

_She's now the Captain of Major Case, and I'm mostly doing consulting work with the Feds and NYPD._

_Prior to this case, we were both so busy, we went for weeks where we only saw each other at home._

_She gets this case and goes to the bureau to request me. _

_I loved the challenge of this particular case, and working with Alex and her team is a privilege all its own. _

_She runs a solid unit._

_This was an intense one. There were about sixteen officers, detectives and agents working with us. _

_Lots of late hours and long days. Finally, we had it all wrapped up at 6:00 on a Saturday morning. _

_After the details are sorted out and our seven perpetrators are in central booking, we leave the precinct._

_It's 10:00am when we pull in to our driveway. I thought we'd be dead on our feet. _

_Surprisingly, as we stand at the back patio door, the one thing on our minds isn't sleep. _

_She flirted with me during the entire ride home. By the time we reach the back patio door, things are starting to heat up. _

_We're kissing. My hands are probably on her ass, she's starting to rub against me… It's time to get upstairs and finish this._

_Meanwhile, Jeremy had been outside washing Alex's car. The bucket of soap and water, some sponges, brushes, towels and the hose are on the grass beside it. _

_No sign of him when we pull in. He may have gone inside to use the bathroom or to get something to drink. _

_Our driveway has space for two cars, side by side. Her car is on one side. To give Jeremy room, we pull the SUV all the way up and park it inside the garage. Then we make our way to the back door. _

_So, while Alex and I are engaged in a very heated kiss, Jeremy sneaks up with his bucket of soap and water, and tosses it at us. Then, he takes off running._

_The outside temperatures are comfortable, but not that warm. The water is cold and we're still in our work clothes. I'm wearing a suit._

_She and I take off after him, chasing him for a couple blocks until we're able to cut him off and grab him._

_I'm not sure how he planned to get away. Despite having been up all night, I don't think I ran that hard. _

_Obviously, that's not something we expected to come home to. _

_But we love him and we're not that upset. _

_He's washing Alex's car just to be nice. He does a lot of things like that to help us out. He's really a great kid. _

_Raised by two cops—one with cancer, he's smart, generous, and respectful. Alex and I are very proud of him._

_He's affectionate, but he can be very playful sometimes. _

_That's been our way of adapting through the years, when times were tough. Especially, through the cancer recurrences. _

_You can't take life too seriously._

_Alex has always had a playful streak, and I think Jeremy got that from her._

_Well, obviously…_

_So Alex and I decide to have a little fun at Jeremy's expense. _

_We each take an arm, and walk him back toward our house prisoner-style, without saying a word to him. _

_I assume Allyson is somewhere close by. They're inseparable. No idea if she's in on this._

_We hadn't seen much of Elliot and Olivia for the past few days because of work. _

_They happen to show up just as we're walking back to the house with Jeremy. They probably saw that we were home and wanted to know what our plans were._

_Some Saturdays, we'll all meet up for breakfast. Seems like that would be the plan for this morning, once we change out of our wet clothes._

_After that, is a long nap for Alex and me._

_Allyson is on our front porch. Elliot and Olivia cross the street toward our house. We all meet in our front yard._

_Allyson comes toward the three of us smirking. "Jer...?" _

_Meanwhile, Jeremy's starting to squirm and play it up like he's in very serious trouble. "Help, they're going to send me to Rikers! I'm going to spend the night in jail! Ally, call a lawyer!" _

_Elliot and Olivia size up the situation the moment they see us. It takes them no time to figure out what Alex and I are planning to do._

_They decide to play along. "What are the charges?" Elliot asks, folding his arms with a convincing expression._

"_Assault with a bucket of suds and water," Alex replies wryly._

"_Any priors?" Olivia asks._

"_A couple of juvenile excessive splashing incidents," Alex quips. "No charges were filed."_

"_Excessive splashing…?" Olivia repeats, her interest piqued. "Hmm… When was this?"_

"_He was a year old. All bathtub incidents. Too young to convict," I respond._

"_Is there a statute of limitations on excessive splashing?" Olivia ponders._

"_Yes there is…but that's okay. It does still prove that our suspect has a history of intent with water," I reply. _

"_I think we need to read him his rights. And let's make sure the arrest warrant specifies no access to water," Alex adds just before she steps away. I assume she's going for some paper towels to dry off. _

_Then I see her cut over and head for the garage. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from grinning, because I know what she's planning to do next._

_We're all aware of how completely silly this sounds. It's just comic relief. _

_Four cops, who happen to be the best of friends, sitting on someone's porch, blowing off a little job stress at two in the morning, can have some very amusing conversations. _

_Through the years, we've all become a little playful. The kids sort of inspire that, I guess._

_They'll indulge us, from time to time. They're just as silly as their parents._

"_Are there any other witnesses or accessories to this incident?" Olivia asks, eyeing her daughter suspiciously._

"_I left to use the bathroom…," Allyson replies, lifting her hands up in mock surrender. "…I didn't see a thing!"_

_Jeremy narrows his eyes at her. "You're supposed to help!"_

"_And perjure myself? Sorry Jer, you're on your own!"_

"_Was it pre-meditated?" Elliot asks._

"_I'd say yes. He knew we were coming home. I texted him an hour ago," I respond._

"_Under the circumstances, I think we need to investigate the crime scene. Could you lead the way?" Olivia asks me._

_I gesture for them to follow. The five of us head toward the back door. There's still water dripping down the window pane and all over the patio. A row of suds lines the edge of the grass._

"_Right here," I reply, when we arrive at the spot._

"_Oh, I'd say it's an open and shut case," Olivia alleges. _

"_No, I'm sorry. No witnesses, no case," Jeremy responds smug, shaking his head. _

"_WE are the witnesses," I reply._

"_You were out all night! Impaired from lack of sleep! You could have concocted your story before coming home." Then he turns toward Elliot. "They were probably making out at 1PP, set off the sprinklers and needed a scapegoat. They have been known to take extra long showers together…" Jeremy argues defensively._

"_Nice try," Elliot replies. "They saw you carrying a bucket of suds and water! How do you explain that?"_

"_They SAW me…?" he repeats disbelievingly. "Impossible! They were busy making out!"  
_

"_Ah ha!" Olivia gasps, pointing a finger at him accusingly. "I believe that puts you at the scene of the crime."_

_He shrugs helplessly. "But, I—"_

"_It's all on the record. We're ready for sentencing, Judge," Elliot adds with a smirk. His eyes pan over to Alex. _

_Right then, she slips up behind him and dumps a pail of water over his head. "And I'd say the punishment should fit the crime…" _

_He then lowers his head in defeat. The water drips from his hair all the way down his t-shirt and shorts._

_Alex and I grab our favorite prankster, pull him into our arms, and hug him._

_We all start laughing._

_**x x x**_

_**~ Present ~**_

_**(Still Bobby's POV)**_

Jeremy walks up to us and Alex and I stop kissing.

"What is it, sweetie?" she asks, turning to him.

"Nothing. Just letting you know I've got the boxes put away, Mom," he replies.

"Thanks."

"Oh…um… Jeremy?" I begin, guiltily.

"Yeah, Dad?"

"I have the Brenwick book. I took it with me to work one day and left it in my gym bag. Sorry, I just forgot."

Jeremy rolls his eyes and smirks. "That's okay."

I gesture for him to follow me, as I head into our library and fetch my gym bag. I open the side panel and retrieve it. Opening the book, I flip to a section and mark the page. "Thad Barrington... Remember me telling you about that Hasbrouck Heights case? That one is in here."

"Oh yeah… The pipe store owner," he recalls. "The guy who thought he was killing witches. What a nutcase!"

"If you want to profile these guys, you have to know how they tick. This book is one of the best I've found. There are a couple more I thought of recently, but I'll get those for you. You can start with this one. It's a good read, but there are some real head-scratchers in here. Interesting puzzles, nonetheless. Anyway, here you go." I hand it to him. "Oh… And something else…" I reach over to one of the bookshelves and grab my NYPD binder. "I guess…it wouldn't hurt for you to glance through this one. It's some of my cases from about seven or eight years ago. I have some background in here, so you can figure out how I'm focusing with each case. You'll get better at this with hands-on experience. For now…it's how I tick," I add, grinning.

I have a newer binder which I'm using for current work. I save my old case notes, because I never know when I'll want to look back at it. Besides, with Jeremy interested in police work, it gives him a little exposure to cases.

He tucks them in his arm. "Thanks, Dad. Not letting anyone see these."

I smile. "It's okay. Those cases are all public record. I don't always use real names anyway. These are just my thoughts during the process."

He shakes his head. "I'm your son. I've already got a lot to live up to."

I pat him on the arm. "You're going to be great."

Alex wanders in and leans against the door frame. "Find what you're looking for?"

I nod in response.

Jeremy holds up my binder like it's a trophy. "Dad's finally giving away his secrets!" he boasts.

She eyes the binder, then wanders toward us. "Hey… I'm not even allowed to see that!"

"Old cases… But you already know how I tick," I tell her affectionately. I reach for her arm, pull her toward me and wrap my arms around her.

"It only took me…_how many years…?_" she replies. "I needed to know that when we first became partners."

"You already had an in, Mom. Should have just walked into the bullpen some morning in a short dress and sat in his lap. He'd probably hand over his binder and confess every single dirty thought he had about you," Jeremy teases.

Okay…well,_ NOW _my mind is envisioning Alex walking into the precinct at Major Case wearing something skimpy.

"_Is that all?_" she inquires.

I grin guiltily and she laughs.

A minute later, the three of us head back into the hallway.

"Oh… Sorry to interrupt your little love fest earlier," Jeremy adds.

"Your father bought me a Ferrari!" Alex announces gleefully, then nods toward the driveway.

Jeremy's eyes widen. "_WHAT…?_" He glances out the front door, "Oh my God!" Then, he takes a couple steps back toward the living room… _"Hey guys! Dad bought Mom a Ferrari!" _

Alex pulls the keys from her pocket and tosses them to him as he runs past her, so he can go have a look inside.

He bolts out the front door to inspect the car. Allyson and Olivia dash out a couple paces behind him.

Around that time, Elliot returns from picking up dinner for the six of us. He practically collides with Olivia on the front porch, as she's heading to look at the car. Alex grabs the door and holds it open for him. I take one of the bags to help him.

Elliot stops once he's inside, and gazes back toward our driveway momentarily. Shaking his head, he looks back at me, "Goren…you _do_ realize that your lovely, expensive gift is going to cost me big time? I'll have to find something equally as impressive for Liv's anniversary gift in a couple of months."

"Might want to start with those Tiffany diamond and tanzanite earrings. They look stunning on her, by the way," Alex says smug.

"Stop encouraging her," Elliot fires back.

She chuckles, then wanders outside to join the others.

A couple minutes later, everyone retreats inside to finish setting up for dinner.

_**x**_

Later that night, while the other four are outside on the patio, Alex and I are finishing the dishes.

My phone beeps, signaling a new message. My hands are sopping wet, so I reach for a towel, then dig my phone out of my pocket.

"It's the hospital…," I announce, as I glance at the display.

She turns off the faucet and steps up close beside me.

I open the message, and we read it together.

Finally, there's a collective sigh of relief.

Alex turns toward the patio, raising her voice so the other four can hear… "NO CANCER!"

That's closely followed by their enthusiastic hoots, applause and cheers of support.

I guide her toward me for a kiss, we deep it almost immediately. This is always a celebratory moment.

We head out to join the others on the patio, receiving more support from our group. Congratulatory hugs and high-fives.

These people have been with me on this journey for years.

Can't imagine how I could have gotten by without them.

"Do doctor says, Dad…" Jeremy adds with a grin, after he hugs me. He remembers hearing us tell him about that.

"Sounded so cute when he was two," Alex says quietly to me.

_It still counts. Even to this day._

It's just after nightfall. We light a couple of citronella candles and sit outside with our best friends.

We toast my latest test result.

Alex sits snuggled up beside me. During a lull in the conversations, she rests her hand against my chest and looks up at me affectionately. "We're beating it!"

I smile back. It's been almost three and a half years since the last bad test result.

"You know… The greatest gifts I have ever received are; you being cancer-free and Jeremy. Nothing will ever top that."

"Not even…_a Ferrari?"_ I tease her.

"No, but I absolutely love the gift. And I love the thought behind it even more."

"You're very welcome."

Our lips meet again.

I don't know if I will ever believe in a time that the cancer won't come back.

I just know I'm very happy with the way things have turned out.

_And I have two of the best reasons in the world to keep going._

_**~The end~**_

**A/N… I'd love to hear your thoughts if you get a minute. Thanks again for the support! 3 **

**Extra thanks to Sell for all the nudges and pokes. Trust me, it really helps to hear that people are reading these stories and waiting for updates. **


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